Meant to Be Yours One Shots
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: Stories set in the Meant to Be Yours Verse. These include snippets of life before Regina adopted Henry, "missing moments" from the main story itself, and snippets of their lives after the main story's end.
1. Chapter 1: Thanksgiving's Past

Regina stood on the sidewalk in front of the community center, holding a grocery bag at the tips of her fingers—it was Thanksgiving, and until that day, she'd actually managed to forget—as she usually did.

She'd gone into work to find her office empty, and then the realization struck. Her heels clicked loudly against the floor as she proceeded into her office and the phone didn't ring for the entire day, making it eerily quiet. She told herself she enjoyed the solace, that she'd finally be able to catch up on work she hadn't had time for and get ahead on a budget report that was due at the end of the year, but all the while, she kept looking at her phone. She watched as the minutes passed, slowly turning into hours. She knew there wouldn't be any invites to Thanksgiving celebrations extended to her, but there was a shred of hope that maybe Graham would call, that maybe he'd want to see her that night—and though she hated herself for wanting that, it would mean that she wouldn't be alone.

But Graham didn't call—and after eleven hours in her office, her back was tight and her heart was deflated. She'd headed to the grocery store, finding it mostly empty and there hadn't been any turkeys left—not that she would eat an entire turkey on her own—so she'd settled on some sushi and a bottle of wine, just before the store closed for the evening. She told herself over and over again that it didn't matter, that it didn't bother her, that she was okay on her own—but no matter how many times she told the lie, no matter how badly she wanted to, she just couldn't convince herself to believe it.

She'd lost count of the years she'd done this—the years she spent dining alone at a table meant for twelve, the years she spent sitting wistfully at her window, looking out at the falling snow and missing a family that she never had. In more recent years, her thoughts would inevitably drift to the little boy who could have been hers—the little boy who could have filled her life and her heart with so much love and contentment, the little boy she hoped was happy somewhere.

She'd smile at that thought, lingering on what his life might be like—and no matter how many times she did this, no matter how many times she allowed herself to think of him and who he'd become, what she imaged was always different. But on Thanksgiving, she always imagined him getting up early to watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade. She considered the floats he'd like—some years Charlie Brown was his favorite and other years it was a video game character, and other years it was something more traditional like a turkey or a nutcracker. She imagined he was excited at the end, when Santa Claus arrived, and she imagined that he begged to go and see him at the local department store as soon as possible—something he would ask again and again until his parents finally took him the week before Christmas. She imagined that he laughed at all the corny jokes the announcers told as if they were actually funny and watch with interest as high school marching bands played Christmas carols, humming along with the familiar beats. And she always imagined that he spent his Thanksgiving surrounded by people who loved him, people who were so thankful he'd come into their lives, surrounded by people who knew how to love.

Swallowing hard, she stands rooted in place in front of the window, watching as residents of Storybrooke line up with plates. It's a buffet-style dinner, and the same people who serve it every year are standing around the buffet wearing aprons and holding serving spoons. She watches as Mary-Margaret Blanchard smiles and scoops a large spoonful of sweet potatoes onto someone's plate and she watches as Granny Lucas slices the turkey and Ruby pours the gravy.

In the middle of the bunch is a man she's seen often—a man who she finds herself inexplicably drawn to, but has never actually spoken to—and she watches as he serves the mashed potatoes, smiling warmly at everyone who passes through the line. Even from the window, she can see his blue eyes sparkling with holiday cheer and even just by looking at him, she knows that he has a kind heart, the sort of heart that would be open to anyone—maybe even her, in another lifetime.

There's a little boy with messy curly hair sitting on his shoulder handing out dinner rolls. He has a toothless, dimpled smile that's so like his father's—and she feels a pang of guilt, knowing that he'll never outgrow this moment, knowing that he'll never grow into the good man he should one day become. But at the very least, he looks happy—happy in a moment he'll live again and again.

It occurs to her that she could go inside, but she knows that she wouldn't be wanted. She's not even sure that she could be useful—and that's why she's never chosen to participate in Storybrooke's annual feast, despite the fact that it was her office that planned the event. Months ago, she'd made all of the arrangements. She ordered the food from Granny's—paying a lucrative catering bonus to make it worthwhile—and she ordered the linens and decorations, and ensured there was more than enough of everything. And then she disappeared, telling herself that maybe another year she'd take a more active role, all the while knowing that she wouldn't.

With one more wistful look, she pushes herself away from the window and again thinks of the little boy who'd almost been hers. She tells herself that he's probably sitting down to dinner, taking extra helpings of cranberry sauce for his turkey and skimming the sweet layer of marshmallow off of the sweet potatoes, and not-so-patiently waiting for desert. And then, for a brief and fleeting moment, she lets herself think of what it would be like to go home to him—to open her front door and have him run to her, to sweep him up and hold him close. She lets herself think of taking him by the hand and leading him to the kitchen as they unload the grocery bag and to prepare their own little Thanksgiving feast—and as she looks back at the community center, she catches as glimpse of the blue-eyed man serving mashed potatoes, and she imagines him coming into the kitchen and kissing her cheek before bending to pull the turkey from the oven.

She makes her way down Main Street, shivering as the wind starts to pick up—and she takes a breath, trying her best to ignore the hallow feeling in chest and the tears stinging as they slide down her cheeks—and once more, it's painfully clear that the only happy ending she ruined was her own.


	2. Chapter 2: Valentine's Past

Set before Regina considered adopting a child, Regina finds herself with an unlikely valentine.

* * *

When she slid into one of the chairs at the counter, Granny's eyebrow arched; and when she placed her order for a cup of black coffee, a small but empathetic smirk formed over Granny's lips and she'd asked if she'd prefer coffee of the Irish variety. Regina had nodded and a moment later, a steamy cup of spiked coffee was sitting in front of her—and she nursed it for as long as she could, not wanting to finish it.

She ignored the cardboard hearts that dangled from the ceiling and the "Dinner for Two" specials posted on the menu, and for a few fleeting moments, she was able to forget that it was Valentine's Day.

When she woke up that morning, Valentine's Day had been the furthest thing from her mind—and it wasn't until she got to her office and saw the vase of long stem roses on her secretary's desk she'd even realized the significance of the date. So often, the days blurred together with nothing important to distinguish them; but that day, even her desk calendar served as a reminder. The date was written in red and there was a little heart printed in the corner of the grid—and a lack of meetings and appointments made for a very long day, leaving her to get caught up in her loneliness and boredom until she was reaching for the phone.

She held her breath as she pushed the numbers to the police station and her eyes pressed closed as she entered Graham's extension, all the while telling herself that what she was about to do was a terrible idea; it always was. But when he answered she found herself a little grin tugging onto her lips—grinning not because she was glad to hear his voice, but glad for the interaction with another person.

He seemed surprised, but he played along, trading pleasantries and inquiring about her day, making small talk and giving her the sense that someone cared enough to actually listen to her answers.

"Regina," he said after a few minutes. "Why did you call?"

She'd taken a breath and slowly exhaled it, fully aware of how desperate this was. "I want to see you tonight."

"Tonight…"

"Yes…"

"Oh," he'd murmured slowly. "I could come over, maybe around ten-thirty?"

Nodding, she grimaced. "Actually, I was… wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight."

"Dinner…."

"Around seven? I'll make a reservation."

"Regina, its Valentine's Day."

"Do you not have dinner on Valentine's Day?"

"Regina…"

"Graham, it's just dinner, not a marriage proposal. Don't make a big deal out of this."

"It sounds like a date."

Swallowing hard, she leaned back in her chair. "Would that be such a terrible thing? To go on a date with the woman you're sleeping with? You… seem to enjoy my company enough to…"

"Fine," he'd cut in with a curt voice. "Make the reservation."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Don't sound too excited about it."

"I'm working."

"So am I," she sighed. "I'll… call you later with the arrangements."

"Sure."

She'd left work early that day. She'd gone home and taken a long shower; she'd spent extra time on her makeup and she'd curled the ends of her hair. And when she slipped her feet into a pair of patent leather heels and looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a small flutter that she couldn't quite place—and then, she realized she was nervous.

When she arrived at the restaurant the hostess led her to her table—a cozy one in dark corner—and the waiter quickly brought her menus and a glass of water. She sipped the water as she waited; and then the waiter came around, offering her an uneasy little smile as he refilled the glass—something that he would repeat again and again and again until she finally conceded that Graham had stood her up.

With each passing minute, the knot in her stomach had tightened and her cheeks began to flush red with embarrassment, and when she finally rose from the table to leave, her jaw was tight and she was fighting back her tears. She knew that her relationship with Graham was little more than a farce. They'd never gone on a date, he'd never stayed the whole night; and though she was well aware of the confines of their relationship, it still hurt every time she realized how unwanted she was. It wasn't even that she wanted a relationship with him—she knew she didn't love him as much as he didn't love her—but she wanted someone, someone to laugh with and hold at night, someone who smiled at her from across a room, someone who eased her loneliness.

As she walked out, the cool air stung and pushed the tears down her cheeks—and as she made her way to her car, the last thing she wanted to do was go home to an empty house.

And so she'd ended up at Granny's sipping a cup of coffee…

"Excuse me," came a little voice, causing her to turn her head. She watched as a little boy climbed onto one of the chairs beside her and a curious little grin pulled onto her lips as he offered her a toothless smile and swept his messy curls away from his forehead. "Do you have a valentine?"

Her grin tightened. "No," she's said in a flat voice. "I don't."

The little boy considered it for a moment. "Neither do I."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Why not?"

"Because," he said with a loud sigh. "My dad bought the lamest valentine's cards." The little boy shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I wanted to get the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ones… because I think girls like turtles." Regina's eyebrow arched as the boy's shoulders shrugged. "But he got Spiderman ones, and girls don't like spiders." For a moment, he considered. "Or, at least they like turtles more than spiders."

"Oh…"

"The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ones also came with candy."

"And girls like candy?"

"Everybody likes candy."

"That's… true," she said with a little nod. "But I'm willing to bet everyone liked your Spiderman cards."

"Maybe." She laughed a little as a short silence fell between them, and the boy looked directly at her—and she couldn't help but think he was one of the few people who'd ever looked her in the eye, completely unafraid. "You know," he began after a moment. "Since I don't have a valentine, and you don't have a valentine…" He paused as he reached around himself and her eyes narrowed as he opened up his backpack. "Maybe we could be each other's valentines."

Her breath caught as he pulled out a little flower made from pipe cleaners, and attached to it, was a little Spiderman card—and when he pushed it out toward her, she felt a fluttering in her chest that she wasn't used to feeling. "You… want to give me that?"

"Yeah! Then you'll be my valentine."

"You don't want to give it to someone else? Your mom, maybe?"

For a moment, the little boy's eyes darkened. "I don't have a mom."

"Oh…"

"And I want you to have it."

"Thank you," she murmured softly, taking the flower from him. "I… don't have anything for you, though."

His cheeks flushed and his smile grew bashful. "Could I… have a kiss?"

"A kiss," she'd repeated as his lip caught between his teeth. "That seems fair."

Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and when she pulled back, his face was red.

"Roland!" Called a man's voice, "Roland, you were supposed to wait for me in the bathroom."

The boy's eyes widened as his nose scrunched as he turned to face the man. "It was… smelly in there."

The man's eyes rolled and he scooped him up from the chair, tucking him beneath his arm as he noticed the pipe cleaner flower in her hand. "Alright, time to stop flirting," he said, offering her a little wink before turning his attention back to the boy. "I told your dad I'd have you back at the shop by closing time, and it's already ten minutes after that."

The boy giggled as the man carried him to the door, and she turned her head to watch him go, a smile stretching onto her lips as he waved goodbye with a floppy hand. And when she turned back to the counter, she felt that unfamiliar fluttering again and as she twirled the little flower between her fingers, she realized that this was the first time she'd actually smiled that day.


	3. Chapter 3: Mother's Day

Set within main story. Henry plans something special for Regina on their first Mother's Day together.

* * *

A victorious little grin edges onto Henry's face as he lays the recipe card down onto the counter, and looks at the ingredients laid out in front of him–and he can hardly contain his excitement, wishing that he could just fast forward to the part of the surprise when he got to wake her up for breakfast.

It was their first Mother's Day together, and he wanted it to be special.

He'd planned it all out the night before–he'd made a card, drawing a bouquet of flowers on the front and writing "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MOM" in big red, bubble letters. He'd been so careful to stay in the lines he'd drawn, and when Robin called a few minutes after nine–just as he always did on the nights they weren't all together–Henry snuck downstairs and snagged a recipe from her box. And then, he woke up before the sun was even up, quietly tip-toeing down to the kitchen–and when he reached the kitchen and turned on the light, and Regina didn't join him, he'd let out a sigh of relief, glad to not have ruined the surprise.

He took a breath and he reached for the baking dish, and suddenly felt uneasy–he'd never cooked alone.

Well, not successfully, anyway.

Looking between the card and the ingredients for the baked apple French toast he'd decided to make, he wrung his hands together, and wondered if maybe this was a mistake…

 _He could barely see over the countertop but a grin stretched over his lips as he pushed two fingers down on the lever of the toaster. He smiled and turned away–he couldn't wait to see Mrs. Termaine's face. The night before she'd been on one of her tirades, complaining about how thoughtless Louie and the girls were, how they never did anything for her, how they only thought of themselves._

 _But he was different, and this was going to prove it._

 _And maybe then, she'd even love him._

 _Grinning, he opened the back door, deciding that flowers might look nice on the table–and before he could pluck the first one, he could hear the smoke detector screeching. For a moment, he froze–his eyes widening as his heart raced, and then he bolted toward the house._

 _Throwing open the door, he watched smoke billowing up from the toaster–and then, his eyes shifted to Mrs. Termaine. Her jaw was tight and her eyes were narrow, and he felt his stomach drop. This wasn't how it was supposed to be._

 _"Look at what you did!" she yelled–and he flinched. "Look!"_

 _"I-I'm sorry," he heard himself say in barely audibly voice as tears filled his eyes. "I just wanted to…"_

 _"It doesn't matter what you wanted! The only thing that matters is what you did!" Henry nodded as his jaw started to tremble–and wanted to apologize, but he couldn't seem to find his words. "I don't want to see you!" She spat as she looked away from him and forced the lever on the toaster up, pushing four charred slices of bread, in spaces that were only meant for two. "You over stuffed it," she sighed as his tears spilled over his eyes and he offered an muffled apology for disappearing to his room…_

"Henry!" Regina gasps–and his eyes widen as he lays the last slice of bread into the baking dish. "What are you doing?"

His stomach flutters a bit, and suddenly, he feels so unsure. "I… I wanted to surprise you." His bottom lip catches between his teeth as her eyes shift from him to the slices of apple in a bowl to his right. "I… I'm making you apple French toast," she tells her. "For… for Mother's Day."

Her eyes widen as she looks back to him, and a slow grin stretches across her lips. "You got up this early to make breakfast for me?" He nods as her smile brightens and she steps into the kitchen, quickly making her way to him. Her hands cup his face and she pull him to her, brushing her nose against his. "You are so thoughtful!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise…"

"Oh," she murmurs, as she pulls back. "And I woke up and ruined it."

"Well, no, not exactly…" He shrugs. "This just isn't how I pictured it." He grins. "I wanted to set the table and put some flowers in a vase and wake up and…"

"I could… go back upstairs and…"

"No," he cuts in. "It's better this way." His grin brightens and he hands her an egg. "Especially because I can't actually separate the yolks." She laughs as she takes the egg from him, once more she leans in, this time pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Happy Mother's Day, Mom," he whispers as he wraps his arms around her neck, and pushes himself deeper into her hug.


	4. Chapter 4: The Secret's Out

Granny finds out that Robin and Regina are romantically involved.

* * *

A grin edges onto her lips as she walks toward the front entrance of Granny's diner, catching a glimpse of Robin through the frosty window, watching as he leads the boys over to the jukebox. Rolling her shoulders, she tries to relax, and shake off the snow and the irritation she can't help but feel over the far-too-contentious and far-too-long town hall meeting she'd just left. Releasing a breath, she gives her shoulders another quick roll, more than ready to spend the remainder of the evening with her family.

Her family, she thinks to herself as she something warm and light and unfamiliar stirs within her. She's not sure when she started thinking of the four of them that way. It'd crept in slowly and took her by surprise, and sometimes when she took a step back, she barely recognized her own life. It seemed to one that would belong to someone else, something she'd watch and envy from the outside, something she didn't think she even had a right to want…

Just months before, the sort of town hall meeting she'd just left would have ruined the rest of her night–it'd likely have ruined her entire week–and she'd have spent the remainder of it kicking around the things that happened, wishing she hadn't said certain things, wishing she'd said others and stewing in her anger until she couldn't help but lash out at the nearest person. But now, she had other things to occupy her thoughts–things she cared about much more than the impossible demands of people who didn't matter to her–and sometimes, that alone was enough to catch her off guard and make her feel things she'd long forgotten she could feel.

Pushing at the door, she kicks her impractically heeled boots against the little step and shakes the snow off of them, keeping a watchful eye on Robin and the boys. She watches as Robin drags a chair over to the jukebox, first lifting Roland and then Henry so that they could better see the list of available songs. She shivers a little as she pulls off her gloves, watching as Robin hands each boy a quarter. Though she's too far to hear what he's telling them, both boys are taking it very seriously, both looking up at him with wide eyes and solemn faces, nodding vigorously as they accept their quarters.

"In or out, Madam Mayor," Granny shouts from the counter, giving her away presence and snapping her back into the moment. "I'm not paying to heat the patio."

At that Robin, looks back over his shoulder, and again, she feels that soft fluttering in her chest when he smiles at her. He holds out his hand to her as she steps into the diner, quickly crossing the room to where he and the boys stand. She's only vaguely aware of Granny's gaze as Robin's arm slips around her waist as he draw her in, kissing her quickly on the lips.

There's nothing extraordinary about it; in fact, it's something that's become a common greeting between them, something they no longer think about, something that's almost–but not quite–mechanical.

"She's watching," Robin murmurs as he pulls back and chuckles softly. "Staring at us, actually."

"What?"

"Granny," he says in a low voice. "Wide-eyed, slack jaw, looking at us in completely shock."

"Oh," Regina breathes out. "I… guess we've never…."

"No," he cuts in, a grin twisting onto his lips. "We've never kissed in public… or announced anything."

"I wasn't aware that we needed to."

"We don't," Robin's quick to say. "But…" His voice trails off as his arm tightens around her. "But, since we have a captive audience, why don't we really give 'em something to talk about?"

"Will they be talking?"

"Granny?" He laughs. "If tomorrow morning the entire town doesn't know you and I are romantically involved… well… then…"

"Let them…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says with an easy shrug as her eyes fall to his lips.

She turns herself a little as his hand presses at the small of her back, his lips brushing teasingly against her. She laughs softly as she catches his bottom lip between her teeth, smiling as she releases it and his hand slips over the back of her skirt and he leans in the rest of the way. His lips are warm and inviting, his kiss soft and unassuming. Yet, still, she finds her breath catching in her throat as her chest tingles with the light, warm feeling she'd felt when she saw him with the boys–a feeling of acceptance and of love, a feeling that makes her believe that everything will work itself out, that no matter what happens _they_ will be okay.

"Alright, alright," Granny barks after a moment. "That's enough. You've made your point."

"Hmm?" Robin murmurs as she he pulls back, momentarily looking between her and Granny as he stifles his urge to laugh. "Were you talking to us?"

"You know I was," Granny sighs. "And as happy as I am that you two have gotten over yourselves and finally seen what everyone else in this town has seen from the start, this is a respectable establishment and I kindly ask that you two _get off of each other_ and let people eat." Regina feels her cheeks warm as Robin pulls away from her, holding up both of his hands for Granny to see. "Besides, your food is just about ready," she says, turning back toward the counter as a little grin edges onto her lips.

Shaking his head, Robin leans back in and pecks her cheek before turning to the boys. "Alright, guys," he says, his tone suddenly different, shifting to one that's softer and sweeter, one he commonly uses with both boys. "It's now or never." Roland turns to face, him with wide brown eyes, looking like he's ready to protest and she hears a resigned sigh from Robin. "Okay, Roland, you pick first and then," he says as he drops his hand atop Henry's head, "Henry, you can pick a song for after dinner, okay?"

Exchanging glances, the boys both nod in agreement and and she watches as Roland's little finger hovers over a button–and then, suddenly, the entire restaurant is filled with a too-loud version of _Hanuka Matata_. Groaning a little, Robin shakes his head and lifts both boys from the chair as she laughs quietly to herself–and with a soft chuckle, he presses one more quick kiss to her cheek as the boys run over to their booth and attack a plate of fries.


	5. Chapter5: Magic of the Missing Mistletoe

Set in the middle of chapter 16, the details of Robin and Regina's first time together.

* * *

Her breath catches as she feels a rush of emotion. Reaching out, she slides her hand up over his jaw, rubbing her fingers over his cheek as she offers him a teary and thankful smile–not just for such a thoughtful gift, but for his presence in her life. She's never had anyone like him–someone so genuine and sincere, someone who accepted her as she was and didn't make her apologize for the things she couldn't change, someone who calmed her and stabilized her, someone who almost made her believe she could be the person he saw when he looked at her.

She leans in and he meets her the rest of the way. Her tongue parts his lips as she kisses him, and he kisses her back, sliding his tongue against hers. It starts off slow and sweet, but it's not long before urgency takes over and their breath begins to grow ragged. He pulls his lips away from hers and before she can even feel a flicker of disappointment, his lips are sucking at the crook of her neck.

His breath is warm and his touch is soft and she offers him a contented sigh as her head falls back and her eyes close.

"We forgot the mistletoe," he murmurs, earning a giggle in reply.

"It's here in spirit…"

Pulling back, a coy little smile stretches across his lips. "You know, the boys are sound asleep…"

She nods, "You're right. They are."

"Which leaves us all alone to entertain ourselves…"

"Right again…"

"Do you want to… continue this in the bedroom?"

"The bedroom…"

"Only if you want to," he's quick to say. "We could always stay out here and… have the sort of fun that wouldn't be… _absolutely_ mortifying if the boys were to come out here and stumble upon us." He grins. "Only slightly mortifying."

She nods as she eases herself away from him, standing up and holding out her hand. "I think I'd prefer the sort of fun that should happen behind closed doors."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she nods, wiggling her fingers a bit impatiently and smiling as he takes her hand.

They walk toward the back bedroom and her stomach flutters as he closes the door, smiling as he reaches for her. He pulls her up against him, kissing her deeply as her fingers tug at his shirt. Stepping back, he pulls it off and undoes the button of his pants, grinning broadly as she watches him. She takes a breath as she pulls her sweater off and she can't help but smile when his lips part and his eyes linger on her black lace bra.

"I am suddenly very aware that, contrary to what I once thought, I haven't done this in almost thirty years," he says a bit sheepishly. "And suddenly, I am _very_ nervous."

"Don't be," she insists, reaching for his hand and tugging him over to the bed. "If it makes you feel any better, you're… already doing a lot better than anyone I've been with." He smiles almost sadly as he squeezes her hand—he lets out a shaky breath as he watches her step out of her slacks.

She takes a few steps in, feeling her heart beat faster as she slides her hands around his hips and pushing at the denim that surrounds them. He swallows hard as her hands tug down his jeans and momentarily, he's immobilized by her touch as the pants fall around his ankles and her hands slide against the thin layer of cotton that separates his skin from hers.

Then, a moment later he steps out of his pants as she leads him to the edge of the bed. She sits down and lays back, her heart pounding as he places a knee onto the bed, leaning to kiss her again.

Her chest flutters as he leans over her, his lips sucking gently at hers as her arms come up around his shoulders, her fingers rubbing absently at the nape of his neck as she draws him closer and leans back so that she's laying on the bed. Robin shifts himself over her and she can feel him hardening in his boxers, his growing erection pressing into her thigh as his hand brushes down her side, his fingers curling around the band of her lacy underwear–and she remembers what he said, just a few minutes before about not having done this since before the curse, and a smile edges onto her lips.

She thinks of how much more sensitive he'll be to her touch, how he'll respond to it–and for the first time, in a very long time, she thinks of how much she wants to pleasure him.

In the years she spent with Graham in the on-again, off-again affair they'd had, she never much cared about his needs or feelings–and he never cared much for hers. They used each other, and there was nothing intimate about it. It was always quick, always meaningless, and it never lasted. She called him when she couldn't quite satisfy herself, when she needed more than what she alone could provide. When he'd come over late in the evening, there was never dinner or a glass of wine, no kisses or flirty conversation. He was there for a specific purpose and when it was done, it was done. He didn't stay the night, there were no second rounds. That never bothered her, though; with Graham, she didn't want more. It wasn't about feelings or comfort or even enjoyment; instead, it was a primal need and nothing more.

But this… this was different.

"Hey," she breathes out, breaking the kiss. "Slow down," she tells him as a grin tugs onto her lips and she pushes herself up, and naturally, he follows her lead. Her hands slide over his shoulders as she pulls herself up onto her knees. "We've got all night."

A sheepish little smile edges onto his lips. "Uh, I'm not sure how to… say this, but…" He laughs awkwardly and even in the dim light, she thinks she sees a hint of a blush rise up on his stubbly cheeks. "I don't know that I'll, uh… last anywhere near all night… if you know what…"

"I do," she cuts in, rubbing her hands back and forth on his shoulders as her brow arches. "But who says we can only do this once?" She laughs quietly to herself as she watches him swallow hard and she leans in, angling her mouth over his as she nips at his lip. He tries to catch her lips, but she pulls back and laughs again, enjoying the playful teasing for a moment before finally letting him win. His tongue traces along the seam of her lips, patiently waiting to be allowed entry–and when her lips do finally part, he breathes her in, pulling her closer as his hands slide up her back. One hand tangles in her hair and the other holds it to him–and for a moment, she lets herself get lost in it.

She kisses him harder, as her hands slide down his arms, feeling the curves of his biceps and linger there for a moment before falling to his hands, and then to his hips. One of her hands moves around him, sliding around his lower back while the other slides into the front of his boxers.

She feels his breath catch at that first contact, as her fingers slide slowly over his hardening cock. His eyes close as he swallows hard as her lips pull away from his, breaking the kiss as her lips come to linger just above his. Even after just a few strokes–her fingers just ghosting up and down his shaft–his warm breaths grow shaky. Smiling, she pecks his lips, forcing open his eyes as she peppers kisses over his jaw and down his throat as she sinks down so that she's sitting on her knees.

"Lay back," she murmurs as she drops a warm kiss to his palm, nodding and smiling as he follows her direction. "Are you comfortable?" She asks, earning a throaty chuckle from him as he nods. Her fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers and he lifts his hips, allowing her to tug them down. She looks up at him as she drops them to the floor, grinning coyly before letting her eyes shift to his cock. Reaching out, she runs her index finger down its length, her brow arching and a little giggle escaping her as it pops up, as if asking to continue.

Licking her lips, she looks back up to him, letting her eyes momentarily meet his before leaning in and swiping her tongue down his shaft. He lets out a breathy sigh and she hears him swallow again as her tongue circle around his tip, sucking hard as she slowly lowers herself and takes him fully into her mouth. She holds him in her mouth for a moment as her hand cups his balls, her fingers kneading gently as she pulls herself back up, and then lowers herself again. He lets out another moan, this time louder and it's obvious he's enjoying the warmth of her mouth and tenderness of her touch. Slowly, she picks up the pace and her hand forms around his shaft, pumping up and down while her lips and tongue focus on the tip–and then, she feels him tense.

A grin pulls onto her lips as his cock twitches and he lets out a low groan. He takes in a sharp breath and his head falls back against the pillow as he says her name, as if it warn her–and again, her lips slide fully down his shaft, taking him into her mouth as he comes.

She feels his body relax beneath her as he finishes, his breaths frequent and sharp as his hand comes up to stroke her hair. She sucks him for a few more minutes, but she's softer this time and less rushed.

"Come here," he murmurs as his hand slides to the spot just between her shoulder blades. '"Come up here…."

Pulling herself away from his cock, she stretches up his body and settles herself at his side–and she can't help but grin when he loops his arm around her and rolls onto his side. His lips find hers and he kisses her. His kiss is wet and a little sloppy, and his breaths are still ragged–and she feels a giggle bubbling in her chest.

"I don't do that for just anyone, you know," she tells him as she pulls back and rests her head on his shoulder. "You should consider yourself lucky."

"Ohh, I do," he tells her. "I very much do."

She grins as she presses a kiss to his chest and for a few minutes, they just lay there together. His hand strokes along her back, trailing up and down and curling around the clasp of her bra–and she laughs a little when it pops open. She lifts herself up and lets him pull it away from her–and she watches as he takes her in.

Her cheeks flush a little as he reaches out, pressing his palm to her stomach and slowly pushing upward until his fingers touch to the bottom of her breast. His eyes keep trailing up though, and he smiles a bit sheepishly as his eyes meet hers.

"Lucky, indeed," he breathes out, her cheeks flushing deeper as he sits up–and she watches as a coy little grin edges onto his lips. She tips her head in curiosity–and before she can find the words to ask, his arm loops around her waist, tugging her down to him,

Laughing out, her hands fall to his shoulders as she eases herself down onto his lap, her lips brushing against his a couple of times before he finally hugs her closer, closing the impossibly small gap between them and pushing her lips to his. He laughs into her kiss as his fingers trail slowly up and down her back, leaving her skin tingly in their wake–and each time his fingers trace down, they dip teasingly into the soft scrap of satin that serves as the only barrier between them. Each time his fingers push down further, caressing and squeezing her ass before retreating back up.

"You feel so good," he breathes out as his lips find a spot on her neck. "So damn good…"

"Worth the wait?"

He chuckles softly and his breath tickles her skin. "Worth all thirty years…"

"That seems an overstatement, she replies as her head falls back and her back arches, pushing her body slightly toward him, and pushing his hands down over her ass. "But I'll take what I can get."

He laughs again and this time, a smile draws onto her lips–and then, once more, he shifts them. Her eyes fly open and she gasps a little, laughing as he turns her down onto her back. He kisses her neck and across her clavicle before his lips and fingers find her breasts and nipples–and she lets out a breathy little moan as her knees instinctively part.

Robin kisses down her stomach as his hands slide to her hips, his fingers looping in the sides of her satin panties, tugging them down her legs. She kicks them away from the bed as her legs fall open and her breath catches in her chest.

In past experiences, this sort of pace would have been unnerving–she wouldn't have enjoyed the fluttering kisses or warm hands exploring her body. But with Robin, it's exhilarating–she even enjoys relinquishing some control and letting him chart his own course.

Her head pushes back into the pillow as his fingers push between her legs, swiping through the wetness there as his fingers seek out her clit. She sucks in a breath at that first contact–at two fingers rubbing in a circular motion. He lays down beside her, his lips settling at the crook of her neck, kissing and nipping as his fingers apply more pressure and move faster over her clit.

Turning her head on the pillow, she catches his lips between hers. Her breath starts to grow ragged as his fingers continue to press and rub over her clit–and she gaps when his thumb presses down hard just above it, adding a whole new sensation and somehow, nearly driving her over the edge.

Her hand gropes blindly over his hip and thigh as she feels for his cock, smiling victoriously when her fingers curl around the shaft.

She sighs a little as her hand begins to pump–slowly and an uneven motions–and she lets out a little moan as she enjoys the sensations his fingers are causing, but wanting more…

"I want you inside of me," she murmurs, squirming against his fingers. "I want to feel you…"

She whimpers a little a the loss of contact as he turns away from her and reaches to the bedside table–and then, he groans.

"Shit…"

"Is there… a problem?" She asks, pulling herself up into her elbows, swallowing hard as she attempts to catch her breath.

Looking back at her, he offers her a sheepish grin. "I don't have… any sort of protection." He sighs. "The last time I bought anything was _years_ ago and…"

"If the curse hasn't wiped it away, it's long expired."

"Yeah…" He breathes out, sighing as he falls back onto the bed beside her. "I… can't believe…"

"It's fine…" she says, letting a soft chuckle rise into her voice. "But I am curious why you needed them when you were… well, not with anyone."

Looking over at her, he shakes his head. "This one I, um… thought that I might… seduce the mayor and–"

She laughs out. "Oh, Robin…"

"Pathetic, I know…"

"Well, you eventually succeeded," she says, rolling onto her side and propping up her head with her hand. "Here I am." She takes a breath. "And… we don't need anything," she says, her stomach fluttering a little. "I mean, since coming to Storybrooke, I've only been with Graham and he's only been with me and… you haven't been with anyone since Marian, so…" she takes a breath, "we're safe…and there's not a chance of any other… unplanned consequences." He blinks at her for a moment–and she watches as it registers, and she wonders if she's just killed the mood. Taking a breath, she reaches out, rubbing the back of her fingers over his jaw. "It's not a sad thing. It's just… a thing."

He nods and reaches out, his fingers forming around her wrist as he draws her hand to his lips and kisses her palm. She watches as a grin forms on his lips as he tugs her to him. His arms wrap around her as he rolls her onto her back, trailing soft kisses down neck and over jaw as he shifts himself on top of her–and she finds herself smiling.

She's never quite had this with someone–someone who saw her completely, and cared for her anyway. He saw her darkness and her vulnerability, and not only accepts it, but makes it okay with soft touches and fluttering kisses, making her feel that what they have together is something real and lasting, and something that's actually meant for her, something she doesn't feel guilty for wanting.

Tilting her head back, she sighs contently as his lips move from one side to the other. She feels her legs fall open to accommodate him. He pulls back as she draws up her knees and she takes in a short breath he runs the tip of his cock down the length of her. He grins and she feels a little laugh bubbling up in her chest–suddenly feeling like a teenager, nervous and excited all at the same time.

Robin's arm loops underneath her knee and he guides it over his hip–and she _does_ laugh a little as he leans in to kiss her. She feels the tip of his cock pressing against her–sliding through her slick folds as he pushes forward. Her breath gets caught in her throat and she moans against his mouth as he slips inside of her–pushing in slowly, but fully. He pulls back momentarily, kissing her chin and her forehead as she adjusts to him–and then, she gives him a little nod and pecks at his lips, and his hips begin to move.

His lips brush against hers and she grins as she reaches up and curls her fingers around his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair and drawing him back to her, sucking hard at his bottom lip before her tongue slips back into his mouth–and she grins again, finding his lips wet and soft, and just the slightest bit swollen.

He goes slowly, at first–taking long strokes as he pushes into her and slowly withdraws, almost pulling out entirely before pushing back in. But with each thrust, his pace seems to quicken, and as it does she moans against his mouth, an indication of her approval. Her breath grows ragged and she feels her skin warming–and he feels so, _so_ good.

Pulling back, he smiles, his blue eyes sparking–and somehow, it's that detail that makes her cheeks flush deeper and her heart flutter in her chest. Leaning in for one more quick peck, he pulls back a little as his hands slip underneath her, pulling her up as he rolls onto his back so that she's sitting on top of him, his cock still buried inside of her.

Breathing out, a coy grin stretches onto her lips–watching the way that he watches her. Raising up her arms, she pushes her fingers into her hair, letting her head fall back slightly as she starts to roll her hips, sliding against him. He lets out a long sigh as her hands drop down to his knees, using them to support herself as she leans back, rocking her hips against him. Her breath catches in her chest and she lifts her head, watching as he reaches out and touches two fingers to her clit. He rubs in a circular motion, keeping his eyes fixed on her as she continues to grind against him until her breath grows heavier and more frequent.

She hears herself murmur his name, and she feels herself nearing a climax. She pushes forward, grinding down against him, pushing herself against his cock and his fingers. She rocks harder as she feels a tingling start at her clit, spreading through her until she's writhing over him. Swallowing hard, her head falls back and her wrists start to feel weak, shaking along with every other part of her–and then, he leans in, shifting her onto her back, thrusting hard and fast as she bites down on her lip to keep herself from screaming out.

Everything tingles and her body feels warm, her heart racing as her hands curl up over his shoulders.

And just she feels herself relaxing–sated and content–she feels his cock begins to twitch. Robin slows his pace, this thrusts becoming slower and longer–and then finally, he explodes.

Her hand slips down his arm to his side, her fingers rubbing absently at his back–as he continues to thrust slow and deep. She enjoys it for a few minutes–her heart still racing and her legs still tingly–and when he finally rolls off of her, he settles at her side and she can't help but cuddle into him, lying in the crook of his arm.

He drops a kiss onto her bare shoulder and a smile pulls onto her lips. She glances up at him, her cheeks flushing a little as his and slides over her bare stomach as it rumbles.

"We should do this again," he teases, tongue flicking against her earlobe. "And again… and again…"

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself," she sighs, enjoying the tingling sensation his lips create on her skin. "I still haven't completely… come down from my last high." Her stomach rumbles again, but she ignores it as her hand reaches up and her fingers slide into his hair. "And this is also nice," she murmurs as she turns her head, and kisses him again.

"You're hungry," he murmurs as his lips slide to her jaw. "Do you want to…"

"I don't want to move an inch right now."

He laughs against her skin as his lips brush against her collarbone. "It's Christmas morning."

"Is it?" She asks, picking up her head and looking toward the clock on his nightstand. "I suppose that means it's time for Santa's delivery."

"I'm afraid so," he murmurs, sitting up beside her. "Though, I would love to resume this once all of the presents are underneath the tree.

She laughs softly, leaning in to peck his lips. "Well, if we have to get up, I definitely think some Ma Po Tofu is in my immediate future."

She grins as he gets out of bed–smiling appreciatively at the view as she tosses her legs over the side of the bed and reaches for the green thermal he'd been wearing earlier. She pulls it on as he tugs on a pair of pajama bottoms on, and she combs her fingers through her hair as he turns with a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts in hand–and she grins as his lips part and his jaw drops open."

"Is… that my shirt?"

"Casual enough for you?" She asks, remembering how he teased her earlier about her choice of clothes and watching as his eyes trail down to where the shirt sits mid-way up her thigh, and she laughs as he drops the t-shirt and shorts back into the drawer and reaches for her.

"You look cute in snowflakes," he tells her, pressing a too-quick kiss to her lips as his fingers fold around her hand.

They walk together down the hallway to the kitchen and she fills two plates with leftovers–and as they're waiting for her Ma Po Tofu to heat up, Robin notices the boys sleeping beneath the Christmas tree. Her heart swells as she watches Robin lift both of the boys into his arms and carries them back to Roland's bedroom. She trails behind him with he Ma Po Tofu and fried rice, watching as he tucks them in and kisses their foreheads, and she finds herself taking a breath as tears well in her eyes–it all looks and feels so picture-perfect.

Robin returns to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and taking her hand as he turns out the light. They go back to the kitchen to pick up the plate she made for him, falling into an easy conversation as they eat, leaning against the counter. Once they're done, it's time to play Santa, arranging the gifts underneath the twinkling lights and doing their best to keep as quiet as possible so that the boys don't wake up. When it's done, he tugs her over to an the armchair and she settles on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder and his arms loosely around her.

They talk about Christmas and the boys, and how excited they'll be when morning comes; and then, they shift to more serious topics when a framed photograph of Marian catches her eye, and she works up the courage to ask about her. He tells her about how she got sick when she was pregnant with Roland, and how he'd tried and failed to save her, and she presses a kiss to his jaw and cuddles closer in an effort to comfort him.

After that, neither of them says very much–instead, they just enjoying sitting with each other and watching the lights dancing on the tree, reflecting on the shiny wrapping paper. She's barely aware that her eyes keep closing for longer and longer periods of time, and she's even less aware of Robin's arm sliding underneath her knees as he lifts her and carries her back to the bedroom.

He lays her down and pulls the blanket up around her before crawling into bed beside her. A grin edges onto her lips as she slides closer to him, sighing contentedly as his arm folds around her and he kisses her forehead. For a few minutes, she just lays there–enjoying his closeness and warmth–and then, she moves her hand to his hip. He doesn't react at first and grin her widens as her eyes open, and her hand slips into the slit a the front of his pajamas.

A soft giggle escapes her when he flinches and his eyes flutter open. "What are you doing?" He murmurs a bit groggily. "I thought you were all but asleep."

"I was," her tells him as her fingers wrap around his cock, gently rubbing at the soft, warm skin. "But now, I'm… thinking it might be nice to have a… little encore."

"Well, you did say we'd have another go at this…"

"And I hate to go back on my word…"

Laughing, he reaches for the hem of his shirt, tugging it off of her before wrapping his arm around her. He kisses her softly as his fingers knead at her hip.

They stay that way for a little while–kissing and touching, unrushed and unbothered–and somewhere in the midst of it, she finds herself thinking that it's never quite been like this for her, that even after just a couple of months of being with him, everything just feels so natural and right, as though this was always the way it was supposed to be.

He breaks the kiss momentarily–just long enough to tug down his pajama bottoms and kick them to the end of the bed–and then, his lips come crashing back down onto hers as he lifts her leg over his hip and slowly pushes himself into her.


	6. Chapter 6: Coping with Jealousy

Regina bristles as she hears Robin's key turn in the lock–and she _knows_ she's being irrational. She shouldn't be annoyed–much less _jealous_ –but she can't help it. She is.

Drawing in a breath, she picks up the book from her nightstand and opens it to a random page and pretends to read–trying her best to look immersed in it. But her jaw is tense and her shoulders are tight–and it only worsens as she hears Robin's footsteps on the stairs.

"I wasn't sure if you'd still be up," he says, offering her an easy smile as he comes into the room, pulling off his shirt and tossing it into the hamper. "But I'm glad you are."

"Mm-hmm," she murmurs she looks up over the top of the book. "Are you hungry? We made up a plate for you–lasagna and caprese salad, and the boys even saved you a brownie."

"That sounds incredible," he says as he flops down on the bed beside her. "But I already ate."

"Oh."

He blinks up at her. "Mary Margaret and I just ordered some take out from Granny's…and…" He pauses as her jaw tightens. "You're upset."

"No," she says too quickly. "I'm not upset."

Robin's eyes narrow, "Then why do you look like you're about to turn that book to dust?"

"What?" She asks, looking down at her fingers, tightly clenching the cover of the paperback book and denting the cover. "It's just… a suspenseful read."

"Ah, yes, Hemingway was known for keeping his readers on the edge of their seats." Her brow creases as she looks to him and then down at the book, and from the corner of her eye, she sees a little grin edge onto his lips. "So is it his description of a tree or a lake or… maybe a fish… that has you so… on edge?"

Rolling her eyes, she drops the book. "I'm not upset."

"Regina…" he murmurs as his hand falls to her thigh.

"I'm _not_."

"But you are."

"I shouldn't be," she says, rolling her eyes before looking to him. "I have no reason to be upset."

Sighing, her head falls back against the pillow and her eyes close–and when they do, she can clearly see Robin and Mary Margaret standing at the back of the library laughing together when she arrived to pick up Henry and Roland.

Robin and Mary Margaret had been spending an increasing amount of time together planning a science fair at the elementary school–something Mary Margaret planned annually, and Robin had generously volunteered to help with.

"So… are you going to tell me _why_ you're upset or are you going to make me guess."

"It's ridiculous," she breathes out as she lifts her head, forcing a smile on to her face. "Just forget about it. It's nothing. Really."

His fingers knead gently at the blanket over her legs. "So, it… wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I spent the last few evenings with Mary Margaret working on preparing for the science fair." Grimacing, she sighs–it sounds even pettier when he says it aloud. "Regina, you know there's nothing going on there."

"I know," she says, nodding as she looks at him. "I know that."

"And you know that I love you."

"I know."

His eyes narrow a little as he continues to knead at her thigh. "Yet…"

"I told you it was ridiculous," she tells him in a small voice as she picks the book up and sets it on the nightstand. "Forget it. Let's just go to bed."

He chuckles softly and pulls himself up beside her, rolling onto his side and propping his head up in his hand. "Or we could talk about it."

"I really don't want to do that."

He sighs and nods. "I'm sor–"

"Don't do that," she cuts in. "Don't apologize because I'm… insecure."

"I know that Mary Margaret is… a bit of a sore spot and there's a lot of history between the two of you, and I should have been a little more considerate. I just didn't realize it bothered you."

"Well, it didn't."

"Until…"

"This afternoon," she tells him, turning to face him as she lets out a breath. "When I came to pick up the boys you two were laughing about something and, for just a second I stood there thinking…" she shakes her head and looks away as her cheeks flush a little, "…how she's the sort of person you _should_ be with, how right the two of you seemed together… how well-suited…"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything–and her press closed. Her cheeks warm and her head falls forward, and though she can't quite figure out what it is that she's feeling, it's not something that's completely unfamiliar to her–and it's a feeling she'd once learned to channel into rage.

"And then you said you'd be here for dinner and…"

"I sent you a text about that. We just got caught up in planning."

"I know," she's quick to say as she looks back to him. "You didn't do anything wrong, Robin. This is… this is all on me."

He sighs and nods, and she hates how guilty he looks. "But then nine turned into eleven and…"

"And I just… I started thinking… and thinking and…" She shakes her head, remembering how she'd let herself get caught up in improbable and unfounded scenarios about Robin and Mary Margaret–about two heroes finding themselves increasingly attracted to one another, laughing together and realizing how much they had in common, falling in love with a person worthy of their affection. "And then I just… couldn't stop."

"Regina, nothing is–"

"I know," she cuts in. "This is… more of a hypothetical concern."

Reaching out, he stretches his arm across her, gently rubbing at her hip. "I'm not, nor have I _ever_ been, interested in Mary Margaret Blanchard. She's my friend, and that's all she'll ever be." He pauses for a minute and his fingers press a little harder into her skin. "Besides, I spent years and years and _years_ pining over you. There's not even the slightest chance I'd do something that could even _potentially_ screw this up."

"But… what if I do?"

"What?'

"What if I screw it up," she says, looking back at him. "What if I just can't help myself?"

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" She asks, scoffing as she shakes her head. "I'm really good at sabotaging the good things I have in my life… when I have them, and I've never had something this long."

"So, you feel like… that's coming."

"Maybe," she sigh. "I… I don't know."

"It won't. I won't let it," he says, his voice full of confidence as he smiles at her. "I won't let anything come between us."

"Not even an… irrationally jealous girlfriend."

"Hardly," he says, leaning in and dropping a quick kiss to her shoulder. "You know, you could come to our science fair meetings. You are the parent of one of the participants and as mayor, you've every right to take an interest in what's going on at the school." He shrugs. "We could use the help, actually."

"That's… not really my thing."

Blinking, he looks to her. "You do realize that I watched you help Henry with his project. I watched the way your eyes lit up when you were mixing the baking soda with the dish soap and vinegar, and the way your eyes lit up when that volcano actually worked. You were more excited than Henry." He grins, laughing softly as his fingers knead at the blanket over her thigh. "Science fairs are _absolutely_ your thing."

"It… was kind of like doing magic," she admits quietly, as a little grin tugs up from one corner of her mouth. "But I wouldn't want to be a third wheel. That's… a little much, even for me."

"Well, you're always welcome," he tells her, as he presses another kiss to her shoulder–this time, sucking gently at his skin. "You still seem tense."

Breathing out, she nods. "I'll be fine in the morning. I just…" She sighs and rolls her shoulder away from him as she settles back against the pillows. "I just need to stop thinking about… the two of you laughing… and…"

"Laughing," he cuts on, as he presses a kiss to her arm. "That's all we were doing."

"I know…" Sighing, she looks over at him. "And I trust you."

"Well, that's good to know," he tells her, pressing another kiss to her arm. "Because I would never intentionally hurt you."

Regina nods. "I know. I just need to… get some sleep and forget about everything."

"Mm, that's one way," he murmurs as his lips trail up to her shoulder. "But I think there's another way to relax you and make you forget all about this."

"Robin, I don't think–" Her voice halts as his lips move to the crook of her neck, sucking gently as his hand rests on her thigh. A smile edges onto her lips as her head tilts back. His lips are warm and soft, and make her skin tingle. "I'm tired and… I…"

She sighs as his lips slide over her jaw–and she turns, catching his lips between hers. His hand slides into her hair and he draws her closer, as his other hand begins to roam. She smiles against his mouth as his hand slides beneath the waistband of her shorts, and his fingers press into her hip–and she can't help but whimper a little as his lips leave hers, pecking at her chin and trailing down her throat and gliding along her clavicle. Her head presses back into the pillow as his hand slips between her legs, and her breath catches in her chest.

"Are the boys sleeping?" He asks, looking up at her as two of his fingers circle lazily clit.

"Mm, for about an hour now…"

"That's good…"

"It's late," she murmurs, smiling as his lips find her shoulder and he pushes aides the strap of her tank top. "And we both…" Her voice hitches as his fingers press harder. "…have an early… morning and we've both… had a long… night."

"We can make this quick."

"Can we?" She asks, laughing as he shrugs his eyebrows, then slides down to her side, pulling his lips and fingers away from her. "You don't have to do this. I'm not ups–"

She stops as he pulls back the covers and shifts himself in front of her. "I said I wasn't going to let you go bed feeling tense…" Her brow arches as a grin stretches across his lips. "And I am a man of my word." She rolls her eyes as a smile twists onto her lips. "Unless you _really_ don't want to."

"No, no," she's quick to say. "I, um… I want to."

Her smile brightens as she draws up her knees and he reaches for the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down her legs and dropping them down onto the floor. She takes a breath as his hands rub up her shins and over her knees, and she swallows hard as he gently pushes apart her knees.

It takes a moment for them to adjust–and her eyes close as she feels his breath against her, hovering just above her. She squirms a little as he rubs his hands slowly and teasingly along her inner thighs, and though she can't see him, she can practically see him smiling at the affect he's having on her.

"Robin," she murmurs as his mouth turns away and his lips press to her thigh. "Please…"

"You're already so wet," he tells her in a husky voice, as his fingers slide slowly over her, and her back arches up at touch. "And so warm…"

"I just want–"

Her voice halts as he leans in–his tongue swiping over her and her breath catches in her chest as a smile draws onto her lips.

He takes his time, letting his mouth explore her–licking and sucking and making her writhe. She feels her heartbeat quicken he slides a finger into her, moving in and out of her as a low moan escapes her–and just a she breathes out his name, he slides in another finger.

His lips and tongue focus on her clit–sucking, flicking and licking–and his fingers curl inside of her. She can hear herself babbling as her body moves almost involuntarily under his touch, her hips pushing toward his mouth as her fingers clutch the sheets. She wants to scream out as she feels an orgasm building, but she knows that she can't, so instead, she bites down on her lip and presses herself back against the pillow.

Her breath is ragged and her hips buck against him, but he doesn't stop–he only slows, letting her ride out her first orgasm before looping his arms beneath her legs and devouring her, quickly bringing her to a second orgasm.

She's dizzy when he finally pulls his lips away, letting them glide up her stomach as his hands reach beneath her tank top. He draws himself up, settling beside her as he kneads gently at her breast. His lips find the crook of her neck and once again, she can practically feel him smiling against her skin–obviously pleased with his handiwork.

"How are you feeling?" He asks when she turns her head on the pillow and pecks at his lips. "Still tense?"

"No," she says in a voice that's barely audible. "You have an incredible talent for turning every muscle in my body to jello."

"Good," he tells her, offering her a satisfied grin before kissing her chin. "It's not healthy to go to bed feeling so… tense."

"I've heard that," she returns, rolling onto her side as her hand slides up over his stubbly cheek. "And I love you for it."

"I love you, too," he replies in a way that's both automatic and sincere. "You _do_ know that, right?"

"I do."

"Good."

Leaning in, she presses her mouth to his and swipes her tongue across the crease between his lips. Sucking his bottom lip between hers and reaches for his belt, her fingers working quickly to undo it, before tugging down the zipper.

"I thought you were tired," he murmurs as her fingers push into his open fly, sliding against him. "I thought you just wanted to go to bed."

"I did," she tells him, laughing softly as she presses herself closer, cupping him through his boxers. "But I seem to have caught a second wind."

"Oh?" He asks, his eyebrow arching as he swallows hard as his eyes meet hers–and before he can say anymore, her fingers are working at the button of his jeans and then tugging them down over his hips. Quickly, he kicks his pants to the floor and no sooner than he does, she's on top of him, straddling his waist as her fingers ghost up and down his chest–and any jealousy she felt is completely forgotten.


	7. Chapter 7: Holiday Traditions, Old & New

Robin looks up as John chuckles and nudges his arm. "Looks like someone left his underwear on the floor again," he says, as they both watch Regina trudge forward through the snow with squared shoulders and a clenched jaw, looking like she's ready for a fight. "She looks like she's ready to hurl a fireball at someone."

He rolls his eyes and hands John the bow he'd been attempting to tie, and a grin curls onto his lips. "Customized gift wrap was your idea anyway," he says, laughing as John's smile fades and he looks down at a mess of ribbon that already started to unravel. "Marco also ordered two fishing poles to go with that order. Have fun wrapping those."

"But you said you'd help until we opened. We've still got twenty minutes!"

Robin shrugs as he moves to unlock the door. "I've got an angry fiance to deal with, unless you just want to _let_ her burn down the store."

A smirk stretches over his lips as John's eyes roll, and he mutters something that's not completely audible beneath his breath–and nonetheless, Robin laughs and he's glad for the distraction, even if it comes in the form of an angry Regina before he's had a full cup of coffee.

She bristles as he lets her into the store, then closes and locks the door behind her. It's unusual that she'd be there that early. Normally when she dropped by the store it was around lunch time and she usually had sandwiches from Granny's with her–and when she didn't have sandwiches, she had the boys and was either dropping them off or picking them up. But today, it was barely eight in the morning. The boys were at school and when they'd parted ways less than an hour ago that morning, she hadn't said anything about stopping by–and she'd been in a perfectly fine mood.

He grins and stuffs his hands into his pockets, shivering as he turns to face her. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Her eyes widen a bit. "Mary Margaret Blanchard," she tells him flatly. "Mary Margaret Blanchard happened."

"Ah…"

"I thought the two of you were on good terms now?" John calls from behind the counter as he examines the bow Robin had been working on. "Well, for the last few months or so."

"We are," Regina replies curtly as her eyes shift between John and Robin. "On most days."

"And something tells me today isn't one of those days," Robin says, chuckling softly as he steps forward, his hand guiding her into the store. "Come on, let's go talk about it."

He leads her back to his office and closes the door, and he lets out a little laugh as she pulls off her gloves and throws them down onto the desk. "She stopped by my office this morning to talk about Christmas Eve dinner, and–"

His brow furrows. "You knew she was going to. It's been on your calendar for _weeks_."

"I know that, but what I didn't know we'd signed up for more than dinner."

Robin blinks. "Oh, I thought–"

"Yeah. Me too." Sighing loudly as she reaches into her purse. "This is for you."

His brows arch. "Oh, and this is…"

"Your secret santa assignment."

"My what?"

"Secret Santa," she repeats. "We all have one." Robin takes the envelope. "Apparently, she's invited half the town to this thing and–"

"I got Marco," Robin says as a grin pulls onto his lips. "And according to this card, he likes craft beer. That's easy enough."

She nods and her jaw tightens. "Everyone filled out a card."

"I… don't remember filling anything out."

She nods again. "Remember that dinner we didn't go to last week. Then one we–"

A grin pulls onto his lips. "I vividly remember. We dropped the boys off and had the whole house to ourselves."

Regina's eyes roll. "Well, Mary Margaret had the boys fill out our cards."

"That was thoughtful," he says, dropping his card down onto his desk. "Who did you–" He stops and a grin curls onto his lips. "Oh," he murmurs as a little laugh escapes him. "You got Mary Margaret, didn't you?"

Regina groans and nods. "And she wants something _sentimental_ and _homemade_."

"That's… cute."

Her jaw tighten again. "Isn't it?" Robin laughs. "There's also an dress code for dinner."

"A dress code?" She nods and a grin twists onto his lip–he's enjoying this far more than he should be and there's a part of him that feels a little guilty teasing her when she's this annoyed. "So, is it safe to assume I shouldn't wear my Rudolph boxers and Roland's fuzzy red and green antlers?"

"Oh, no… that _would_ actually be acceptable," Regina replies. "Our clothes have to be Christmas themed." Her eyes sink closed and she draws in a breath. "Robin, she wants to go carolling." He can't help but laugh as he leans back against the edge of his desk and reaches for her hand, tugging her toward him. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to go over there and have a pot-luck dinner and exchange presents and go out caroling when half the damn town is going to be at her dinner, anway. What are we going to do? Sing to a bunch of empty buildings?"

Robin laughs and presses a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be fine."

"I have to _make_ her something." A little grin twists onto her lips. "The last time I made her something it was a poi–"

"No," he cuts in. "You're not poisoning an apple."

She blinks up at him. "It'd be sentimental."

"No."

"But–"

"No," he cuts in, shaking his head.

"What else am I supposed to do? Make her a scrapbook of all the times I tried to kill her?" She asks, wide-eyed. "Robin, we don't exactly have the sort of history you'd want to get _sentimental_ about." She sighs and her shoulders slump forward. "Is it too late to back out?"

"I'm afraid so."

"They won't miss us. David and Mary Margaret have Emma around for a few more days, and–"

"Regina. We told–"

"Remember last year?" She says, ignoring him. "Remember how perfect it was?"

"I do remember, and it was perfect."

"We ordered Chinese food and watched movies and–"

"And had incredible sex." He nods and laughs a little. "Of course I remember."

She grins. "Wouldn't it be nice to just… do it all over?"

"You want to do _exactly_ the same thing we did last year?"

"Don't you?" She asks, her eyes widening. "Robin, that was such a wonderful night."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't," he says, unable to stop himself from remembering her padding across his kitchen, barefoot and wearing only his thermal. "But after almost thirty years of doing _exactly_ the same thing, it's nice to have… a variety."

Her smile fades and she takes a breath. "We still have presents to wrap and the turkey isn't thawed, and–"

Robin shakes his head, and chuckles softly at her obvious attempt to get out of dinner with the Charmings. "And we still have _two days_ to wrap presents and the turkey doesn't need either of us to thaw." He circles his arms around her waist and sighs. "Not to mention, I think _you_ want to go… even though you're doing a very good job trying to convince yourself that you don't."

Regina's jaw tightens and her eyes narrow. "I hate when you do that."

His head tips to the side. "Do what?"

"Stay calm and logical and… reason with me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, leaning in and pecking her lips. "So, how about we both take short days, then we'll meet at Granny's for lunch, do a little more Christmas shopping–the craft store, included–and then pick up the boys from school."

Her lip catches between her teeth and she sucks in a breath. "You're sure you don't want to stay in on Christmas Eve?" She asks, once more trying to convince him. "Just you and me and–"

"And half the town," he says, his voice rising over hers as she pouts. "It'll be fun." He shrugs. "And if it's not, it's only a few hours and we'll know for next year."

For a moment, she doesn't say anything, but she shifts on her feet and looks away as her eyes press closed–and then, she nods. "Fine. You're right. We should go." Her eyes shift back to his and she bites down on her bottom lip. "Which means I am back to square one on the homemade, sentimental gift." Robin shrugs and he pulls her to him, letting his hands slide over her hips–and a little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. "You used to date her. What do _you_ think she'd want."

His eyes roll. "It was _one_ date, _years_ ago, and we were fixed up, at that."

"Yeah, yeah… that's what you always say."

"Because that's all there is to say." He sighs. "How about you go walk through some of the shops and–"

"It has to be homemade."

"You can get ideas."

Her eyes narrow. "Maybe."

"And maybe we could meet for lunch?" He asks, his grin brightening. "Burgers at Granny's, then a little shopping? I saw this little book light the other day that I thought we could put in Henry's stocking. They only had the unicorn pattern left, but the guy at the store said they'd be getting more in today, so I want to check that out."

Regina's eyes soften and a smile pulls onto her lips. "You… want to get Henry something?"

Robin laughs. "It's not completely uncharacteristic, is it? I mean, we've both gotten both boys tons of presents for–"

"No, no," she cuts in. "It's not uncharacteristic. I just… it's sweet that you think of him and…" She stops and shakes her head. "It doesn't get old, that's all. Everytime, it… it warms my heart."

"Well, he's going to be my step-son in just a couple of months. Of course, I _think_ of him. I love him."

"I know you do."

"So, what do you think?" He asks, squeezing her a little closer. "Lunch then shopping? And I can help you figure out Mary Margaret's gift."

Her eyes narrow in consideration as she presses her palm to his chest. "Or we could shop a little, then have lunch, then shop some more." Her eyes widen a little as she smiles. "Come on. Play hookie with me."

"This is a really busy time of year for the shop," he says as his fingers press into her hips. "I want to, but–" He sighs. Arguing with her over something like this will get him nowhere–and in the end, he's just going to let her win because when it comes down to working or spending a day with her, it's not much of a contest. "It wouldn't really be fair to John to have to manage this place all by himself."

Regina's lips part to protest–likely to tell him that he was already planning on taking off the afternoon and it's only just a couple of hours difference–but John's voice beats her to it. "You know, I'm pretty sure I can handle the two customers we have in the store, and its two days before Christmas. We're out of almost everything anyway and most of the customers we have coming in today will just be picking up gifts they've already purchased." He grins as he looks between them. "I wasn't eavesdropping," he says as he steps into the doorway. "You left the door open and I need more ribbon."

Robin rolls his eyes as John reaches for the ribbon and waves it at him–and then, when he looks back to Regina, there a little smirk stretched across her lips. "Fine," Robin sighs as Regina leans up onto the tips of her toes to peck his lips. "You win."

They spend the morning wandering through the department store, picking up a few last-minute gifts for Henry and Roland. They find a pack of Superman socks for Roland and a new Captain America hat for Henry; they pick out a few stocking stuffers–card games and packs of gum and rub-on tattoos–and Robin talks her into buying matching green-and-red flannel pajamas, not just for the boys, but for them, too. Then, somehow, by the time lunch rolls around, they're each walking out of the department store carrying two overflowing bags.

They load the bags into the backseat of Regina's car and drive back toward Main Street.

"You disappeared for awhile there," Regina says, narrowing her eyes as they slide into one of the booths at Granny's. "Where'd you go?"

Robin shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"When I was paying for the pajamas, I turned around and you were gone."

"Oh," he murmurs as he focuses down on the menu. "I went to the bathroom."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I did," he says, sounding a little coy. "Maybe you didn't hear me."

Again her eyes narrow and it looks like he's resisting the urge to smirk–and though she wants to press further and figure out just where he went and why he didn't tell her about it, she also wants to eat. And her hunger wins out.

"I've been thinking about these burgers ever since you mentioned them this morning."

"Me too," he says, laughing a little as he folds the menu closed. "I think I woke up craving one."

Ruby takes their order and within a few minutes, their burgers set in front of them and a plate of fries between them–and Robin's mysterious disappearance at the department store is all but forgotten as they plan out the rest of their day.

After lunch, Regina pops into a few of the little stores along Main Street while Robin checks in on John–and when they meet again in front of Granny's, Regina has another bag and still no gift for Mary Margaret.

They end up in the craft store and both are a little lost as they wander up and down the aisles as Regina scrolls through the Pinterest app she never opens on her phone. Finally, when she turns down an aisle of miniatures, a smile draws onto her lips as she finds a tiny little apple tree that looks a bit like the one she had planted in the garden at Leopold's castle.

She pulls it off the peg, and looks at it, rubbing her fingers over one of the tiny apples–and then, the beginnings of an idea that just might work sparks. She looks up to find that Robin is, once again, nowhere to be found and shrugs her shoulders, then turns her attention to the Pinterest app. She selects a few other miniatures–making a point of keeping the mini apple tree–and then heads to another aisle, choosing a mason jar and iridescent glitter. It takes a little longer to find glycerine and a little wooden candle holder to create a base for the jar, but eventually she finds them; and them, on the way to the check out, she tosses some white paint, a hot glue gun and some glue sticks into her cart. And then, waiting by the checkout with a triple-bagged package, she finds Robin.

"What's in the bag?" She asks, attempting to peer down into it. "You went to a lot of trouble to make sure no one could see into that bag."

Robin shrugs. "One of the things inside is a little heavy, so they gave it a little extra support, that's all."

Her brow furrows. "That sounds like an excuse."

"It's not," he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek as he takes her bag. "What did you end up getting to make for Mary Margaret."

She takes a breath and forces a smile. "I'm making her a snow globe… or at least that's what I'm going to try to make her." She rolls her eyes and reaches into the bag and pulls out a little chipmunk encased in plastic. "She used to take to little woodland creatures." Robin laughs and her eyes roll. "It was annoying."

"But also sort of cute."

"I guess…" She shrugs and a grin pulls onto her lips. "Are you sure you can't tell me what's in that bag?"

"Gift wrap and… some other things."

Her brow arches. "Gift wrap was too heavy?"

"Did I say it was heavy?" He asks, chuckling softly as she nods. "Oh, then… yes. I got a few spools of ribbon and it… really weighed down the bag." Her eyes narrow with curiosity and shrugs as they start their way down the street again. "So, I was thinking," he begins, looking up at the signs about the stores. "We should get the boys some candy for their stockings."

"Didn't we do that already?"

"Probably," Robin says easily, chuckling again as he pulls open the door. "But we didn't get candy from _here_." Regina steps in and looks around at the dispensers filled with brightly colored candies, and a grin pulls onto her lips. This is one of the newer stores in Storybrooke, one that was started by one of the dwarves–whose Storybrooke name always escapes her and whenever she addresses him as _Happy_ , she feels the oddest twinge of guilt –after the curse broke. "We can never bring the boys here," she murmurs in a low voice as she looks to Robin. "They'd never make it out."

He laughs. "You think we'd find them curled up in the corner passed out in a sugar coma?"

She nods as he looks to him. "With Sour Patch Kids and Starbursts clenched in their fists."

"Mayor Mills!" Happy calls out as he comes out of the back room, carrying two large bags of lemon drops and chocolate-covered malt balls. "I'm so glad you've finally made it in."

"Oh, I meant to, but–"

"You've been busy, I'm sure."

She grins and nods as she runs her hand over the chrome counter and looks at the glass jars filled with colorful gumdrops. "It… looks like something out of a story book."

"That's what I was going for," he tells her–in a stereotypically happy voice. "Can I help you two find something for Henry and Roland? I'm sure we have–"

"Oh, I'm sure, too," Robin says, cutting in with a soft chuckle as he pulls two boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Jelly Beans from the shelf and holds them up for Regina to see. "They'd go nuts in here."

"I hear that a lot."

"I think we'll just have a look ar–"

"Your boys are into Harry Potter?"

"Obsessed."

"Then, I have something to show you!" Happy comes around the corner and takes them both by the hard, and Regina's eyes widen as he brows arch and she looks to Robin, who only laughs. "If they like Harry Potter, they'll definitely like–"

"Oh my god," Regina breathes out, her jaw dropping as she looks at the little section of the store that's Harry Potter-themed. "This is…"

"Intense," Robin decides as he picks up a Gryffindor spatula. "But I think Henry needs this."

Regina nods. "Get Roland a Hufflepuff one, too."

Robin nods and plucks another spatula from the bucket–and then, sees the matching spoons and aprons, and without hesitation, he grabs one of each in Gryffindor and another in Hufflepuff. "Can I interest you in a Ravenclaw apron?"

She turns and grins. "Only if you get an apron, too."

"Henry and I can twin," Robin tells her, choosing a Ravenclaw one for her and a Gryffindor one for himself–and her heart warms at the image of the two of them, in their matching aprons. "We can wrap this stuff up with–"

"Hagrid's hut?" Happy suggests, pulling a box down from a shelf and handing it to Robin. "What Harry Potter fan could resist a gingerbread version of Hagrid's hut?"

Regina sighs and nods, as Robin tucks the box underneath his arm and she turns her head to read the recipe on the side of the box. "Well, we have everything to make the dough and–"

"Everything comes in the box," Happy explains. "But most people are buying extra frostings and candies to decorate the hut."

Again Regina sighs and before she can even nod, Robin's already at one of the dispensers, filling a bag with tiny Snow Caps–and a half an hour later, they're leaving the store with two full bags of candy, and only the Bertie Botts Jelly Beans for the boys' stockings.

On the way to the elementary school, they stop by Granny's again and buy two gift cards for milk shakes, and Robin suggests filling two bags with quarters so the boys can play the jukebox. Regina agrees and they stop by the bank, getting a couple of rolls of quarters, and then they stock up on little bags of trail mixes and chips and popcorn for the boys to take to school for snack time–and they're fully aware that none of the snacks will last past New Years, let alone until the boys go back to school.

Finally, they stand outside the elementary school–and a grin edges onto her lips as she watches Henry and Roland emerge from the school.

Henry takes Roland's hand and helps him down the icy front steps, and then they break out into a trot as they spot her and Robin standing near the fenced in playground.

"We had a party!" Roland announces. "And our teacher brought us cupcakes."

Robin laughs. "Is that why your lips are all green?"

Roland nods as Regina folds her arm around Henry and pulls him to her. "My mouth's green, too," Roland tells them, sticking out his tongue as she and Robin laugh. "Or it was."

"It still is," Regina tells him, laughing softly as she shakes her head. "Cupcakes aside, did you have fun?"

Roland nods. "But the cupcakes were the best part."

"My teacher didn't get us cupcakes," Henry says. "Mother Superior isn't nearly as fun as the other teachers." His brow arches as he looks up at Regina. "Her gift to us was we got to play Holiday bingo instead of doing math today."

"Well, that's… something," Robin says, laughing slightly as he shakes his head.

Regina's eyes narrow as she looks down at Henry. "You do know that she's not _really_ Mother Superior. She's not actually a nun, she's–"

"The Head Fairy," Henry cuts in, nodding as he looks up at her. "Same thing."

"I always thought fairies would be more fun than nuns," Robin muses as he looks between them. "I mean, with the magic and funny little outfits, and all."

"Not _this_ fairy," Regina sighs. "There's a reason she ended up being a strict nun who thrived on killing any sort of fun anyone wanted to have in the curse."

Henry blinks. "We had to solve math problems to figure out if what squares she was calling. That's _not_ fun."

"Oh… I just thought that was part of her cursed personality."

"No, it was… strangely fitting." A grin twists onto her lips. "Making her a nun for nearly thirty years was her the punishment the curse put upon her."

A snicker escapes Robin as his brow aches. "Ah, the thing that… sets nuns apart."

"Exactly."

"It took for-ev-er," Henry complains, completely unfazed by the innuendo.

Robin laughs. "Did you at least get to use colorful bingo dabbers?"

"She said that was too messy," Henry says, shrugging his shoulders. "But we got to use our colored pencils."

"That's…" Robin stops. "Well, you're done for a couple of weeks."

Henry nods. "She liked the candle, though."

"I told you she'd like a white unscented candle," Robin says as they round the corner back to Main Street.

"She said it was her favorite scent."

"Yep," Robin says, chuckling to himself. "She's really is a fun one."

"Yeah," Henry sighs. "Real fun."

Regina laughs as she hugs Henry closer as they walk toward her car–and Robin when Robin leans in, pressing a kiss to her hair just before they reach the car, she feels her heart flutter, and it's hard to believe that she started the day feeling tense and annoyed.

Robin's brow furrows as he looks down at the recipe card.

"It's easier than it sounds," Regina tells him as she comes up behind him, pressing her hand into his back. "Just crack the egg into the rice and… swish it around."

"Swish it around?" He asks, turning his head to look at her from over his shoulder. "Is that the culinary term?"

"No," she says, grinning. "But it's the one I'd use with the boys."

"Are you telling me I have the culinary abilities of a six and nine year old?"

"No," she says, giggling softly. "They're much braver."

His brow crinkles and he pouts a little. "Why do we have to have _fried_ rice, anyway? What's wrong with just steamed white rice with the beef chop suey?"

Regina leans up onto her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. "It was Roland's night to choose and this is what he chose."

"And you can't just… magic it together?"

Her eyes roll and a grin edges onto her lips. "It's more fun to watch you struggle."

"Thanks…"

She kisses him again and the dumps a bowl of spouts into the chop suey before turning her attention to the boys who are carefully rolling egg rolls at the counter.

"Regina's right, dad," Roland calls. "This _is_ fun."

"It's out of my culinary wheelhouse," Robin says. "I was good at fishsticks and mac and cheese, and… spaghetti. I can make some really great spaghetti and meatballs."

"He does make good meatballs," Henry says, looking up from his egg roll. "I like that they have cheese in the middle."

Robin smiles and Henry grins at him. "You like anything with cheese in it," Regina laughs as she helps Roland tuck in the edges of the egg roll.

"Thanks for trying, Henry," Robin says, laughing as he winks at the older boy. "It's nice to know someone's on my team."

"It's not that I'm not on your team," Regina says as she looks to him. "I just think it's fun to try new things."

"Yeah! Me too," Roland says with an exaggerated nod. "Like fried rice!"

"Yeah," Regina says, offering Robin a wink. "Like fried rice."

"It does smell good," Henry says, attempting to peer past Robin.

Robin's brow furrows and he chuckles softly to himself. "Traitor."

"I was trying to compliment you," Henry says. "But… I don't think the egg is supposed to look like that."

"It's not," Regina says, chuckling softly as she reaches around him and scoops a fork into the rice, making sure to take a little of the egg with her. "But it still tastes good."

"And that's all that matters," Henry says, shrugging his shoulders. "I think the egg rolls are done."

"Okay," Regina says, taking a breath. "Can you two line some paper towel on the counter?"

Both boys nod and hop off their stools as Regina comes up beside him, knocking her hip against his and winking as she drops the egg rolls into the boiling oil. Robin continues to stir the rice and slides an arm loosely around her her waist as they wait for the egg rolls to cook. He loves this part of the day–and though it's a nightly routine, cooking dinner with her and the boys never gets old.

When the egg rolls are done, Regina lays them out on the paper towel and the boys pat them dry as he scoops the fried rice and chop suey into separate bowls. The boys set the table and he and Regina pour the drinks and carry in the food. The boys both chatter on about Christmas, mostly–and Henry is a good sport, playing into the Santa Claus myth for Roland's benefit, reminding the younger boy that bed time will be earlier than usual and they won't get to ask for extra chapters.

Finally, when dinner is done, the table is cleared and the boys help with the dishes–and for the first time that school year, there's no homework to be done.

When the kitchen is cleaned, Regina suggests a movie–but a coy little grin edges onto Roland's lips and he suggests instead they bake cookies for Santa. Henry's quick to jump on the bandwagon, and before either he and Regina can agree–or disagree–Henry has a recipe card for sugar cookies on the counter and is getting out the ingredients. Regina laughs as she she lifts Roland onto a stool at the counter and she instructs Henry to preheat the oven.

It's not long before the dough is rolled out and he's adding food coloring to the icing, and the boys are laughing and singing Christmas songs as they press cookie cutters into the dough, making stars and snowmen and Christmas trees.

The first batch goes into the oven and the boys work on a second–and when Henry turns to reach for a handful of flour to sprinkle onto the more onto the counter, his elbow hits the snowman cookie cutter pushing it off the edge of the counter.

Instinctively, Robin bends to grab it–and his fingers loop through the cutter's center, just before it touches the floor.

"Nice catch," Regina laughs as Robin hands it back to Henry with a triumphant little grin.

"Thanks, dad," Henry says, barely paying attention as he presses the cutter into the dough–and then slowly, he looks up, realizing what he's said. "I mean…" Henry's voice trails off and his cheeks flush as he shifts uncomfortably and looks back down to the dough. "Sorry, I…"

"Don't apologize," Robin's quick to say as he looks momentarily to Regina, who smiles gently as he eyes widen a little and she nods before he turns his attention back to Henry. "It's okay."

"I… I don't know why I called you that," he murmurs sheepishly as he looks up. "I've never called anyone that before."

"Maybe because Roland calls me that?"

Robin holds his breath for a moment, watching the way Henry chews at his lip and fidgets uncomfortably–and he's not sure how to respond. Of course, he doesn't mind that Henry called him dad–since he and Regina started dating, Henry had felt more and more like his son, and they'd reached a point where he didn't feel any differently about Henry than he did about Roland. In a lot of ways, Henry calling him dad felt natural and fitting–and admittedly, he'd wanted to start a conversation with Regina about formally adopting her son once they were married, but he wasn't quite sure where to begin or whether or not, he'd be overstepping.

"That's because you _are_ my dad," Roland says, unncessarily. "What else would I call you?"

"Roland, that's… not very helpful," Robin says with a sigh as he looks to his son, watching as he peels a christmas tree cookie up from the counter and sets it down on the baking sheet.

"I've never had a dad," Henry says, looking up at him. "You're the closest thing I've ever had to one."

Robin looks up and his eyes meet Regina's, finding them teary. "Henry," he says, feeling a little choked up as he looks back to him and leans his elbows onto the counter so they're at eye-level. "If you think of me as your dad, that's okay." He grins. "In fact, I'd be honored to be _your_ dad."

"You would?"

"Of course I would."

"Really?" He asks, almost shyly. "You would?"

"Absolutely," Robin says as his smile widens. "You're an amazing, kid, Henry—and, I love you."

A lopsided grin tugs up at the corner of his mouth. "You do?"

"I do," he says easily. "In fact–"

"Uh… what's that smell?" Roland asks, interrupting as his eyes widen.

Robin blinks and looks up as Henry's eyes widen a little as Regina looks to the oven–and suddenly, they all remember the cookies in the oven. Regina pulls the oven door open and Robin hands her a set of oven mitts before picking Roland up and pulling him out of the way–and Henry giggles when Regina sets the tray of burned sugar cookies down on the counter.

"We can't leave _those_ cookies for Santa," Roland says, looking between them all.

"Well, it's a good thing you two were making a second batch, anyway," Robin says, looking to Henry as he shoves a spatula underneath one of the cookies, lifting it and giggling at it's burned bottom.

"We'll set the time on the next batch," Regina says assuringly. "That way Santa's cookies won't burn."

"But we can still decorate these," Henry says as a grin pulls onto his lips. "If we eat them with ice cream, I bet we won't even be able to tell they're burned."

"You just want an excuse to eat ice cream," Regina says, laughing as she takes the second, unbaked tray of cookies and slides them into the oven–and intentionally showing Roland that she's setting the timer.

Robin swallows hard watching as Henry reaches for the red icing and paints it across one of the stars, giggling as it pools in the center–and it's obvious that for him, the moment has passed. Roland joins him and the counter and reaches for one of the burned snowman cookies–and Robin feels his chest tightening as he watches them. Regina steps up beside him and stretches an arm around his back, smiling up at him as she lays her head against his chest, watching as the boys decorate the cookies.

It strange, he realizes, that he spent the last twenty-some years doing the exact same things year after year, but as he watches _his boys_ decorating the cookies, it's hard to remember anything before the last year, anything before Regina and Henry came into his and Roland's lives–and it's almost as if those twenty-some-odd years happened only to bring him to this very moment.

She draws in a breath as she plugs in the glue gun and looks at the items laid out on the counter. There's a little chipmunk and a couple of birds, a rabbit and a racoon, and a little girl in a pink dress with long brown hair that's curled into ringlets–and of course the little apple tree.

Opening up the app, she reads through the instructions and Robin chuckles softly.

"You know, it might be more effective to actually… start gluing things down."

Blinking she looks up. "I just… want to make sure I know what I'm doing."

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her cheek as her eyes narrow. "Aw, you care."

"I don't want to have to go back to that hellish place, that's all."

Robin grins. "I think you care more than you say."

"I don't," she says, her voice curt as she tears the packaging off the apple tree. "I just want this done and to not have to do it again."

"Because you care."

"No."

"Regina, why can't you just–"

"I will not hesitate to murder you," she says, as she turns and points the glue gun at him.

Robin brow arches and he reaches for the gun. "Okay, so… how about we put the gun down and talk about this? Hm?" Her eyes roll as he pulls the gun away from her and sets it down. "It's just a Christmas gift."

She nods and presses her eyes closed. "It's not though and I'm really worried this is going to be… a complete disaster and another disappointment."

She looks away from him and focuses on her phone as her jaw tightens–it's hard to put into words why she wants this gift to work out. In the last few months she and Snow–or Mary Margaret, as she still wanted to be called–had forged the beginnings of a friendship. She wasn't deluded enough to think that it wasn't mostly about Henry–as odd as it seemed that her once step-daughter's grandson would be the little boy she adopted–but she didn't want their entire relationship to be centered around her son.

She'd always felt guilty about what happened between them all those years ago–and she hadn't handled her guilt well.

Deep down, she'd always known what happened in the stable that fateful night wasn't Snow's fault, but admitting the alternative had been too difficult–and though she knew that the unhappiness she felt in the years she spent at Leopold's wasn't at all Snow's fault, she's needed someone to blame, and again, blaming snow was just easier.

Somewhere along the way she'd lost sight of that though and somewhere along the way getting revenge on _someone_ was good enough.

In the past few months, she'd done what she could to make amends, but always it felt like it fell short, and what Mary Margaret really wanted was something she couldn't give because at the end of the day, she couldn't regret a single thing–not one terrible thing she'd done–because if she hadn't done those things, Henry wouldn't exist and a world without Henry wasn't a place she was interested in.

And that had become increasingly apparent since Emma Swan had come to town.

"Regina…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she says in a small voice as she looks up at him. "I just want to make my snow globe."

He sighs and hands her the glue gun and a little grin edges onto her lips. "Don't use the glycerine," he says as he presses a kiss to her cheek. "It'd clump after a couple of shakes."

Her head tips to the side and her eyes widen. "And how do you know that?"

"Google," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "More specifically Molly Moo's Blog."

"Molly Moo?" Her eyes widen and her face scrunches up judgmentally. "Really?"

He nods and a snicker escapes her. "What? I didn't name the blog."

She can't help but laugh as he stuff his hands into his pockets. "So… what else did Molly Moo's Blog say about making mason jar snow globes?"

He grins and again, takes the hot glue gun away slowly. "That… this doesn't work. You need water-resistant glue. Otherwise the little miniature chipmunks are going to be swimming."

"Perfect," she says, sighing as her head falls back. "That's just perfect."

"It is, and it just so happens we have some." Her brow furrows and before she can ask, he trots around to the opposite side of the counter and opens up the junk drawer. "Remember Henry's coral reef project?"

"How could I forget?" She asks with a sigh. "It's why we now have three betta fish, who refuse to die, named Larry, Moe and Curly."

"Well," he says as he fishes through the door and holds up a small silver tube of glue. "This is what we used to keep it all together."

"Water resistant glue," she says with a nod. "Of course."

He tosses it to her and she catches it, setting it down beside the miniature chipmunk. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the counter, and she can feel him watching as she opens up the other packages.

"So, tell me about these little creatures."

She blinks and looks up. "You want to know about the birds Mary Margaret used to talk to?"

"Sure."

"Okay," she says slowly as she uncaps the glue. "I told you she talked to them?"

"You did."

"Well, she did it for years."

"Years?" He asks as his brow arches. "She talked to birds for _years_? Wasn't she, like… ten when you and her father married?"

"There were squirrels, too, but they were less receptive," she tells him as a grin stretches over her lips. "And, it's not like there were other kids around for her to play with. Whenever we'd go out–"

"You were there?"

She picks up the little rabbit and dots glue along the bottom as she looks up at him. "I was a glorified babysitter, remember?"

"Ahh… right."

She presses the rabbit down to the bottom of the jar's lid and then reaches for the little girl. "She named them all and would… talk about them like they were people, and…" She laughs. "I don't know how she did it, but after awhile, they got used to her and they'd… come up and greet her."

"Like pets."

"Just just like pets," she says, nodding. "She was… good with them and she'd bring them little treats and she tried to teach them tricks and–" She laughs a little as she presses the girl down to the lid and reaches for a bird. "There was this fat little cardinal that used to come and eat seeds out of her palm… and she'd whistle and he'd whistle back." She bites down on her lip as she glues a little red bird to the girl's shoulder and looks up at Robin. "It took her a year to learn to whistle. She'd just… blow and spit and…" She sighs and a grin twists onto his lip. "I wanted to throw myself into the lake."

"You… took her to the lake?"

"In the summer," she nods. "I liked walking through the woods and I liked being by the water. It was nice to get away for a little bit."

"If I remember correctly, that's… an awfully long way."

"There wasn't much else to do," she says, shrugging. "And it was the only way I was allowed off of the estate grounds. So, we… went a lot."

She watches as his grin softens. "Something tells me that Snow wasn't just talking to birds and squirrels…"

"And chipmunks."

"And according to that thing, rabbits."

Regina blinks. "She was annoyingly inclusive."

"Did she happen to include a certainly surly yet gorgeous step-mother in those little chats?"

For a moment, she doesn't say anything as she pushes back a memory of her and an eleven year old Snow sitting on a rock by the water, talking about how Snow feared she'd grow up to be a disappointment to her father–and Regina empathized, confiding her own fears of becoming a disappointment to her own parents.

"No," she lies as she looks down at the jar. "She didn't and I didn't want to."

"Hmm," he murmurs as he leans across the counter and reaches for the bag–and before she can stop him, he pulls out another little figurine of a brown haired woman in a blue dress and holds it up. "And who is this supposed to be?"

Her jaw tightens as his brow arches. "Me," she says, her voice low and barely audible. "That's… supposed to be me."

She sighs and looks away as his grin brightens, and he pushes himself up from the counter, quickly rounding it. "You do care," he tells her as he presses a kiss to her cheek. "And glue some of that glitter to the bottom of the lid so it looks like there's snow on the ground."

She can't help but grin as she looks back to him and nods. "Thanks for the suggestion."

"I'm going to go check on the boys."

"Okay…"

"She's going to love that, you know."

Regina nods–she does know, she can't help but feel guilty about it, wishing there was some way for her to change the past without ruining the future.

The first official day of Christmas break begins by bundling up the boys and taking them to breakfast at Granny's–which is the only thing that stops them from wasting the morning away snuggled in bed beneath their blankets. They all eat pancakes and Granny tops the boys' with extra whipped cream, then Robin takes them into the store while Regina goes into her office to close out the year.

To make up for his absence the day before, he lets John take the boys out to the little yard beside the shop to play. He helps them to build a snowman–and then, once the snowman is built, all three launch an attack tossing snowballs at him until he falls. Robin can't help but laugh out when Henry and Roland turn their attack on John and he falls back dramatically in the snow, hooking an arm around each of them and pulling them downing into a bank of snow.

When they come in, they're red-cheeked and their noses are running from the cold, and Robin makes a pot of hot chocolate for them before settling them in his office with an Indiana Jones movie.

"You should bring them in more often," John says, pouring a mug of hot chocolate for himself. "I like having them here."

"You like having playmates."

A grin twists onto John's lips. "It's not like you're willing to have snowball fights with me."

Robin's eyes roll. "You need more friends."

"I have Mulan."

"And Mulan has Ruby."

"I like Ruby. We have game nights all of the time."

Plucking an empty much from the rack behind the counter, Robin fills it–and then, adds a little rum. "That's… not exactly what I meant."

"I have Wil, too," John says, a bit defensively. "When he's not completely sloshed, he's a lot of fun."

Robin nods, "And what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Oh…"

"Regina won't care if you come over for dinner on Christmas Day, and I'm _sure_ no one would oppose you coming by the Charmings on Christmas Eve." He shrugs. "Ruby and Mulan will be there."

"I… have plans," John says as he takes a long sip of hot chocolate.

"You're not sitting at The Rabbit Hole with Will spending the day getting drunk."

"No, that's… not what I have planned for the holidays."

Robin's brow arches. "Well, I've just named off all of your friends."

John nods. "You did."

"So, if you're not spending the holidays with the Charmings or Will, and you're turning down my invitation, then…" He shakes his head. "Mulan and Ruby are spending Christmas Day with Mary Margaret and David." His eyes narrow as John looks away and again takes a too-long sip of his hot chocolate. "Granny's will be closed…"

"I wasn't planning on going there."

Robin blinks. "Then… who the hell are you spending Christmas with?"

"My girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," Robin says, clearing his throat. "Your what?"

"My girlfriend."

Robin's eyes widen. "And when did you get a _girlfriend_? And why is this the first time I'm hearing of her?"

"It's… still new."

"Bring her over!" Robin's quick to say. "Regina and I–"

"No," John interjects, smiling awkwardly. "I… don't think that would be a good idea. Regina doesn't much like her and… and I don't think you do either." Again, Robin's eyes widen and his head tips to the side. "I've been… seeing… Blue."

"Blue…"

"Yeah. You know. The Blue Fairy."

Robin swallows hard. "You're dating _Mother Superior_?"

"She's not _actually_ a nun," John says, chuckling softly. "Trust me on that one." Robin's face scrunches–he doesn't want to think about it. "We're… spending the holidays together. I'm making her dinner for Christmas Eve and then we're going to spend Christmas Day lounging around watching holiday movies and–"

"Don't finish that sentence."

John grins. "Your cabin is awfully cozy. It's the perfect place to–"

"I'm so glad you're renting my cabin," Robin sighs. "But you know, I'm… happy for you," he says, his tone changing to one that's more sincere. "Besides, who am I to judge? I fell in love with the Evil Queen… who turned out to be an adorably surly–"

A grin twists onto John's lips. "And _you_ don't have have to finish _that_ sentence."

"Fair enough," Robin says, reaching out and clanking his mug against John's. "But if you change your mind and want to stop by, I promise Regina will play nice."

"You think?"

A grin twists onto his lips. "Wine does wonders for her mood."

John laughs and nods–and the conversations halts when a customer comes in, searching for a last minute gift. Somehow, John manages to sell the man a tent and a barbeque and a bunch of little things that make camping easier, and by the end of it, the boys' movie is done and Regina's coming into the shop to pick them up for lunch.

He grins when she holds up a bag of take-out and the four of them retreat into the office to eat. She had club sandwiches for the boys and a rueben for him and he teases her for choosing a chicken caesar salad for herself–and almost as soon as lunch starts, it's over and the boys are ready to go.

He stays at the shop until closing, and when he comes into the house, Regina's in the living room, curled up on a chair with a book. He joins her for awhile, sitting on the arm of her chair with his arm around the back of it, listening as she tells him about her afternoon with Henry and Roland. She tells him about how she took them sledding and then to the library, and while Roland listened to the Story of the Day being read, Henry curled up in one of the oversized chairs and started reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea–and of course, that meant that he had to check it out and restart the book as soon as they got home, so that Roland could enjoy the story, too.

Robin makes a joke about how he foresees sea monsters and Captain Nemo taking over their lives in the not so distant future–and with a sigh, Regina agrees, informing him that all through dinner both boys had all sorts of questions about submarines and whether or not there were really sea monsters way down at the bottom of the ocean, whether or not those sea monsters were good or bad, and how pirates might later factor in.

"Pirates, eh?"

Regina nods. "I have a feeling Peter Pan is going to be their next big thing."

"Yeah?"

Regina nods. "Once they've exhausted everything and anything about sea monsters, that is." Robin laughs and sighs and Regina folds her book closed. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good," she says, pulling herself up and out of the chair as she takes his hand. "We made fish tacos and spanish rice… and a huge salad. I made you up a plate."

"That sounds amazing," he says as a smile stretches over his lips as she leads him back to the kitchen.

He settles on a stool. "Where are the boys?"

"Sleeping."

"Already? It's only nine-thirty."

She laughs. "Roland thought maybe he and Henry should practice going to be early… you know, since Santa is coming tomorrow and might pass over them if they're not asleep."

"And Henry played along?"

Regina nods as she slides the plate into the microwave. "I think he was tired. They got up early and then played in the snow with John, then went sledding and then when they got home from the library, they went out and played in the snow again."

"He's a good sport," Robin says, nodding. "He's a great big brother."

Regina nods and leans against the counter. "He really is."

For a few minutes, silence falls between them–and he feels his own tiredness taking over. The microwave sounds and Regina gets out the plate, and they start an easy conversations about Christmas. She tells him that while the boys were outside playing, she stuffed their stocking and finished wrapping the last of their gifts. He makes a joke asking how the turkey-thawing is coming along and she rolls her eyes as she tells him that it should be ready by Christmas morning. When he's done eating, she clears his plate and puts it in the dishwasher, then takes his hand, leading him around the house to make sure the doors are locked and the lights are turned off–and then, they go upstairs.

He waits until the shower turns on before going to the closet and pulling out a gift he'd bought for her the other day when they were at the department store, and he smiled to himself, laughing as he held up a sheer green gauzy bra and panty set–and as he wondered, as he pictured her in it, who the gift was really for.

He pulls out a few sheets of wrapping paper–and again laughs at how ill-fitting the paper is for the gift–but nonetheless, sets the lingerie into the box, and wraps it in the paper adorned with cartoon reindeer, wearing little hats and glasses, holding presents and candy canes, and sipping cocoa in silly pajamas.

The shower turns off as he reaches for the ribbon and measures it out against the box–and he grins, knowing he'll have at least fifteen more minutes to finish wrapping the box and put everything away while Regina dries her hair. But then, just as he's tying the ribbon, he realizes that he doesn't hear the dryer–and then, the door opens. His eyes widen as he scrambles to scoop up the wrapping and he tosses the box into the closet, quickly pulling the door closed.

"I'm too tired to dry my hair, so I guess it'll just be a curly mess for–" Regina's voice stops as she looks a him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You're holding ribbon."

He shrugs. "Oh, I was just… wrapping something that I picked up for the boys."

"All their presents are wrapped and up in the attic."

"This was something I picked up… today."

Her eyes narrow. "You didn't mention that."

"I forgot about it."

"You forgot about the last-minute gift you went out of your way to get them _today_." Robin shrugs–it's not completely inconceivable for that to be true. "So, what did you get them?"

"It's a surprise."

Her brow arches. "Even for me."

He laughs–and it's more than obvious she doesn't believe him. "Especially for you," he says, changing gears.

"So, it's… for me _and_ the boys?"

"I wouldn't say that."

She brightens a little. "So, this for _me_?"

"Perhaps."

"Can I have it now?"

"No."

Her bottom lip pouts out and he can't help but laugh. "I'll give you one of yours."

"While that is _very_ tempting," he says, as he tosses the ribbon down on the chaise longue by the window. "It's far too late for you to enjoy it."

She blinks. "It's barely ten-thirty."

"And you're tired."

"Am I?"

He laughs again and shakes his head. "Well, I certainly am."

"And… this gift is something you and I will enjoy… together?'

He grins and takes few steps toward her, pulling her to him. "I certainly hope so."

Leaning up onto the tips of her toes, she pecks his lips. "Fine. I guess I can wait until we _both_ can enjoy… whatever it is."

They get into bed and as soon as his head his the pillow, he sighs contently–and then, rolls onto his side to face her. "You know, there's… actually something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"I've just been thinking about it for awhile and…" He sighs. "I didn't really know if it was my place or…"

Regina rolls onto her side to face him, and tucks her hand against her cheek. "You sound serious."

"I am."

"Okay, you have my attention."

He nods, and takes a breath. "Well, it's about what happened last night… with Henry calling me dad."

"Ah…"

"I… don't really see much of a difference between being Henry's _step_ -dad or his _dad_. To me, it's the same thing, and in a few months, we'll be married, so I'm not sure if it's… a moot point or…" He sighs and takes a breath, oddly struggling with his words. "I think I should start over."

"No," she murmurs softly as a little grin edges onto her lips. "I'm following."

"I love him. I love him as much as I love Roland, and while I don't think titles matter in the least… I think they matter to Henry."

Regina nods. "I think they do, too."

"Remember last Christmas, and how he kept saying he'd always wanted a _real_ family and–" He stops. "I want to give him that picture-perfect TV show family he grew up wanting."

"You _have_ given him that, and yesterday, when he said that he'd never called anyone 'dad,' he was…"

"I know…"

"But I want to make it official," he says, holding his breath as his eyes meet hers. "If… that's okay with you."

Regina nods. "It's perfectly fine with me. I know that you love him and… and since he came to Storybrooke, you've been a dad to him, even if you didn't have that title, even if you and I weren't even together yet." Her little grin brightens. "And I love how much you love him."

"I _do_ love him."

Regina draws in a breath, and suddenly, something in her expression changes–something he can't quite read. "Maybe when we get married, we could… _all_ make it official."

"All…"

"I'm not trying to replace Marian, but–"

"You wouldn't be replacing her," he's quick to say. "Roland doesn't remember her and he loves you so, so much, Regina."

"And I love him."

"So, then… we'll talk to a lawyer after the holidays and…"

"Yeah," Regina nods, smiling as tears fill her eyes. "And then in March, it should be finalized."

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her forehead and then to her lips. "That is going to be such a good day."

She nods as she cuddles into him. "The best."

On the morning of Christmas Eve, she decides to bake apple pies–and despite Robin's gentle suggestion that perhaps giving David and Mary Margaret an apple pie for the holidays isn't the best of ideas, she wraps one up to bring to the Charmings nonetheless.

She spends the rest of her day trying to convince herself that Christmas with the Charmings isn't a colossal mistake–and it works right up until Mary Margaret opens the door, proudly donning a Tree Rex sweater that she says she just couldn't pass up when she saw it hanging in a store window.

Regina's eyes widen as she focuses on the dinosaur tangled in Christmas lights with a star atop his head. "No," she murmurs, dragging her eyes up to meet Mary Margaret's a tight smile stretches across her face. "I'm sure you couldn't."

Mary Margaret steps aside to let them in and Robin leans in murmuring a low _be nice_ into her ear as they pass.

She hands David the pie and he makes a quip that she chooses to ignore about it being an apple pie, and she sets Mary Margaret's gift onto the table with the others–as as she turns, she realizes she's lost Robin to August and the boys are both busy examining the ornaments on the Charming's tree.

Standing there alone, she folds her arms over her chest and looks around the room–aside from Robin's conversation with August, there's not really one she can just jump into and she's well aware that the majority of the people in the room only tolerate her.

Though most people in town didn't want to tie her up and burn her at the stake like she'd initially feared and though most have accepted her as their mayor, they don't have much of an interest in sitting down for dinner and making small talk–and their tolerance, she suspected, had much more to do with Mary Margaret's and Robin's endorsements than it did with her.

"Hey."

Regina looks up and watches as Ruby and Mulan walk toward her, offering them a little smile as Ruby extends a beer. She takes it and murmurs her thanks–and though she's not much of a beer drinker, she's glad to have someone to talk to.

"So, we were hoping you could settle something for us," Mulan says as a grin tugs onto her lips and she looks to Ruby. "We can't come to an agreement."

Regina nods and takes a quick sip of the beer, grinning as she looks between them.

Ruby has been one of the few people in town who hasn't kept her at an arm's length, and since the curse broke, she was one of the few Storybrooke residents who insisted others should give Regina a chance to redeem herself. And, of course, like Mary Margaret, Ruby was a hero that most believed in. Mulan was generally harder to read, but that was mostly because she was something like a little sister to Robin–and though she wasn't completely thrilled with the notion of Robin hooking up with the Evil Queen, he was happy and that was what mattered most.

"We were wondering what your take is on the whole Little John-Blue Fairy thing," Mulan says. "Personally, I think it's batshit, but bleeding heart over here," she says, nodding her head in Ruby's direction, "thinks it's sweet."

Regina blinks. "John and… Blue?" Her eyes shift between them. "That's… a thing?"

"You don't know?"

"Robin didn't tell you?"

Ruby shifts as she looks to Mulan. "It's possible Robin doesn't even know."

Mulan shrugs and then looks to Regina. "John is always seeking Robin's approval. I doubt he'd willingly admit to him that she's been shaking up with Shady."

A grin tugs on to Regina's lips. "Shady?"

"The Blue Fairy is _totally_ shady," Mulan says as her voice drops. "I don't care what anyone says."

Regina takes another sip of her the beer. "So… John and Blue, huh?"

Ruby nods. "It's new."

"And I don't like it," Mulan adds before taking a long sip on her beer. "And I don't like her."

"Well, I'm not the best judge of character, but–"

"You never liked her," Mulan cuts in. "And you like Robin and you're raising a great kid, so I'd say you _are_ a good judge of character… and since you're a good judge of character, I think you're on my side with this."

Regina shifts and tries to hide the awkward little grin as she looks to Ruby. "She makes a good point."

Ruby sighs and rolls her eyes. "That's what my grandmother said, too."

Mulan's brows arch as she slowly looks to Ruby. "Even _Granny_ agrees? And you're _still_ arguing this? That's me, Regina _and_ your grandmother." Regina bites down on her lip as she catches Robin's gaze and he seems pleasantly surprised to see her casually chatting with Mulan–and that makes her smile. "Just give up and admit you're wrong about Blue."

It's not long after that that Mary Margaret announces that dinner is ready and they all take a seat around the awkwardly long table at the center of the room. There's both turkey and ham and what seems like a hundred different side dishes, and at the end of the meal, Regina can't help but notice that her apple pie has gone untouched. With an overly dramatic sigh, she cuts herself a piece–and she can't help but smile when Roland comes up behind her, tugging on her sweater as he lifts his plate and asks for a big slice.

She laughs and nods, cutting a larger-than-acceptable piece for him and the she takes his hand and leads him over to the couch, pulling him into her lap.

"I don't know why no one's eating your pie," he tells her. "It's really good."

"Well, I guess there's just more for us, then."

Roland's eyes widen. "That means I can have another slice?"

Regina laughs and presses a kiss to his mess curls. "How about you finish that one first."

"That sounds like a challenge," he says, stabbing a fork into an apple slice. "And I'm good at challenges,"

"I think my stubborness is rubbing off on you."

Roland shrugs and cuts his fork into the crust. "Maybe."

Regina laughs and they finish their pie, and before Roland can even ask for another slice, Mary Margaret announces that it's time to exchange presents. A knot forms in her stomach as she lifts Roland off of her lap and sets him down on the couch, awkwardly moving toward the presents and plucking hers from the pile.

For a second, she stands, rooted in place, watching as people awkwardly approach one another and extend their gifts–and she can't help but notice the too-wide grin that edges onto Mary Margaret's lips as she waits for her gift.

"I… think you already know this," Regina says as slowly walks toward Mary Margaret. "But I was your secret santa." Awkwardly, she holds out the bag. "Merry Christmas… Snow."

A grin tugs up at the corner of Mary Margaret's lips as she takes the bag–and her eyes widen. "Regina," she murmurs as she pulls the snowglobe out of the bag. "This is beautiful." She grins and gives it a little shake. "Is that… you and me?"

"It… is," Regina says, swallowing hard as she shifts a bit uncomfortably on her feet. "I was… thinking of those little walks we used to take when your father would go away and–"

"I love this, Regina," Mary Margaret cuts in, looking at her with tears glistening in her eyes–and then, she pushes herself forward, folding her arms around her. "Thank you."

Regina tenses and slowly, her arms fold around Mary Margaret–and lightly, she pats her on the back. She looks up and watches as Robin bites down on his lip in an effort not to snicker and when she tries to pull back, Mary Margaret hugs her tighter before finally letting go.

"So, you really made this?"

"I did," Regina nods. "Well, Robin helped a little… but yeah… I made it."

A grin twists onto Mary Margaret's lips. "I'll treasure it always."

"I'm sure."

"And… I had your name for secret santa," Mary Margaret announces as she holds up a bag. "It's funny that we both ended up with each other's names."

"Yeah," Regina murmurs. "So funny."

"Here!"

Regina holds her breath as she takes the gift bag, swallowing hard as she pushes her fingers through the paper. "Is this… a book?" She asks, looking up at Mary Margaret. "I know Henry filled out my card, but–"

"He said you'd want baking stuff and more recipe cards, and somehow, those things felt like they might actually be for him."

Regina grins. "Well, we do like cooking together….but… yeah, I think that would have been something Henry would have enjoyed because it would have increased the chances of him getting to eat cookies or a cake or… an apple pie."

A grin tugs up at the corner of Mary Margaret's mouth. "Roland said it's _to die for_." Regina's eyes sink shut and she grimmaces. "I… might have to try a piece if it's that good."

"I… do make very good apple pie and I promise, there's no poison in it." She takes a breath and smiles. "Robin said I wasn't allowed to do that."

"That's good to know," Mary Margaret says as a giggle rises into her voice. "Now, open your present! I'm really excited for you to see it."

"Alright," Regina breathes out as she lifts the book from the bag. She swallows hard as she looks down at the brown leather book with gold leaf lettering that reads _Storybrooke Through the Years_ , and then her eyes shift up to Mary Margaret. "What… is this?"

"Open it." Again, she holds her breath as she opens to the first page, and pasted onto the page is a newspaper article about the first Miner's Day Celebration, and a photograph of herself with very questionable haircut. "I went through the town archives and… your curse had a little flaw."

"Did it?"

Mary Margaret nods. "The newspaper had microfilm of all of the newspapers throughout the years, so… I compiled a book of all the amazing things you did for this town and the people who live here." Reaching out, Mary Margaret turns to the back of the book and fans out the blank pages. "And I left room for all the wonderful things you're _going to do_ for this town."

She feels her breath catch in her chest and, in spite of herself, she feels her eyes filling with tears. "Mary Margaret, this is…" She looks up and bats her hand over her eyes. "I don't know what to say. I can't believe that you… made this for me."

Mary Margaret smiles. "I know things have been tough for you since the curse broke. People haven't always been fair to you and they expect the worst, but you've _earned_ this second chance."

"Oh… that's…" Her voice halts and she surprises even herself when she steps forward and wraps her arms around Mary Margaret. "Thank you."

Mary Margaret slowly pulls back and smiles–and before things can get too sentimental for her comfort, Henry comes bounding toward them with Roland on his heels.

"Mom! Look! Isn't this cool?" Regina turns to face Henry. "Look what Emma got me!"

"And me!" Roland echos as he holds up a gift bag.

Regina grins as Emma mouths a silent _thank you_ as Henry pulls out a Captain America action figure with a little helicopter attached to his back. "He flies!"

"And so does my Superman!"

"Oh, wow," Regina murmurs, turning her attention to the boys and quickly offering Emma a wink. "That's so cool."

"Can we go out in the hall and play with them?" Henry asks, looking up at her with wide, expectant eyes that she can never say no to. She nods and they both hug her and run out into the hall–and she grins as Robin excuses himself from a conversation with David and Marco and follows them.

"I really appreciate the list," Emma says. "I… had no idea what to get him."

"Oh, it's no problem. I'm sure he'd have loved anything that you gave him."

"I don't know," Emma cuts in. "It's nice to be able to give him something that he actually wanted."

Regina nods. "I know the feeling."

Emma takes a breath and shoves her hands into her pockets. "I was… wondering if you could do me one more favor though?"

"Oh?"

"I'm only here until New Years and… I was wondering if you'd let me take Henry to lunch." She shrugs. "My mom–as weird as it is to call her that–said he loves going to that little diner down the street."

"Granny's," Regina says with a nod. "And I'm sure he'd liked that."

"Thanks." Regina nods as Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet. "He's really lucky to have you as his mom, and… I'm grateful to you for…"

"You don't have to thank me for loving my son."

"Right…"

"So, I'll send you a text about lunch, then?"

"Yeah," Emma says, smiling a bit awkwardly as she shifts on her feet. "Are you… sure it's not too weird?"

"No," Regina says, her honesty surprising even her. "It's really nice that Henry has such a big family after not having one for so long, and… I'm glad that you're a part of that family."

"I'm glad that I get to be a part of it, too." She pauses or a minute and takes a breath as Mary Margaret lifts her glass and looks for something to clank against it, obviously about to make some sort of announcement. "And to show my gratitude, I'm going to let you know that now is probably a good time to duck out. She's about to announce that everyone is going caroling."

"As in…"

"Yep. We're bundling up and walking around town, singing Christmas songs in front of people's houses."

A tight grin pulls onto Regina's lips and she laughs a little. "I am most certainly not the caroling type, so I'm going to say my goodbyes before she makes her announcement."

"Good call," Emma says with a decisive nod as Regina steps around her.

She offers a quick thanks to Mary Margaret and David for having them, and tells them that Roland is tired and they have to go. Mary Margaret hugs her again, and this time, she doesn't tense–and with a wink, she tells her that she'll leave the apple pie for them to enjoy later on.

She grabs her coat and Robin's, and then the boys', and joins them in the hall–and she smiles as Henry laughs out as he uses his remote control to make his Captain America dip down and then fly back up, and then, as expect, Roland does the same with his Superman.

"Hey you," Robin murmurs as he stretches his arm around her shoulders. "Ready to go already?"

"Yeah," she breathes out. "Apparently, the next thing on Mary Margaret's agenda is carolling and–"

"We're not doing that," Robin says, cutting in and shaking his head. "There's no way we're doing that."

"No, we're not," Regina says, laughing soft. "But I'm really glad you made me come here tonight and didn't let me back out." She rubs her hand over his back and grins up at him. "But I have to say, I'm a little surprised you left me alone in there."

"I trusted you. I don't have any reason _not_ to trust you." Robin grins and presses a kiss to her temple. "But I will say that I'm glad you didn't poison anything or set the tree on fire or–"

Regina laughs and rolls her eyes. "Well, I did leave my pie and it _does_ have a secret ingredient in it." Robin's eyes widen a little and she laughs out, swatting her hand against his chest. "Which is _lemon juice_.

"Oh…" He says, laughing as his arm tighten around her and he presses a kiss to her hair. "I knew that."

An hour after they get home, the boys are tucked in and asleep.

Robin opens bottle of wine as Regina waves her hand, and in seconds, the presents are neatly arranged underneath the tree. He grins as Regina tosses a fire ball into the hearth and then tugs him down on the couch beside her.

"I like when you cheat and use magic," he says, shifting his arm around her. "And I love when the boys are in bed and sleeping by nine."

"Two nights in a row…"

"Think we can come up with a way to make this happen every night?"

At that, she laughs. "I highly doubt it."

He grins and takes a sip of the wine, holding it in mouth as he closes his eyes–and for a moment, he just enjoys the silence. "This is nice, though," he tells her, "To finally have a a few minutes to ourselves."

"It is."

"Are you tired? We could go up…"

"Not yet," she says, taking a quick sip of her own wine. "I'm surprisingly awake, given how busy today was."

He nods. "Mary Margaret seemed to like her snow globe."

"She did," Regina says, a hint of a smile edging onto her lips. "I'm glad it all came together."

"And your gift was… equally sentimental."

"Yeah," she murmurs, looking up at him. "I feel guilty for complaining when–"

"You didn't want to disappoint her," he says easily, dropping a kiss atop her head. "That's understandable."

"I just wish that our history wasn't so–" Her voice halts and she takes a long sip of the wine. "Well, you know what our history is."

"I do, and there's no use in worrying about it. All you can do is… do better now. You can't change the past."

"I know…"

He rubs his hand over her arm. "She knows you're trying…"

"I know," she murmurs softly. "Did you see what she gave me?"

"It looked like Henry's story book…"

"It was a scrapbook," she says. "A scrapbook of… all the things I did as mayor during the curse… she said it was proof that I deserved the second chance I've been given."

"You do deserve it."

"Maybe."

"Regina…"

She sighs and looks up at him, smiling gently. "It was a nice reminder."

"I agree," he murmurs as he looks to the tree, absently running his fingers up and down her arm. "And I think it was a reminder you needed."

"She's annoying like that," Regina sighs. "Always doing the right thing at the right time."

His eyes roll as he chuckles softly. "So annoying…" She nudges him and he laughs again, this time pressing a kiss to her hair. "You know, since the boys have already gone to bed, I think it'd be fun to give you one of your gifts early."

"Oh," she murmurs, pulling herself up and looking to the tree. "I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in us choosing one gift for each other."

His grin turns coy as he takes a long sip of the wine. "Well, there's actually one very specific gift, and…" He chuckles softly as she looks to him and his grin turns coy. "It's a gift that's as much for me as it is for you."

"Oh?"

"It's upstairs."

A smile edges onto her lips. "The one you were wrapping when I was in the shower."

"That would be it."

"And, you don't want to… save it for tomorrow morning."

"Uh, no," he's quick to say. "I think that would lead to some… uncomfortable conversations."

Her eyes narrow and she giggles softly, and then she downs the rest of her wine and grabs his hand, pulling him up from the chair and leading him up the stairs to their bedroom. He laughs softly as he goes to the closet and pulls out the box covered in pajama-clad reindeer.

"Nice gift wrap," she says a grin tugs onto her lips. "Did… you buy this specially for _this_ gift?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he sighs. "And it's incredibly ill-fitting." Her brow arches. "But we were at the craft store and it was crowded and I didn't have time to browse, so I grabbed the first pack I saw and it came with the bow and–"

"I think the reindeer are cute." He grins as she slips her finger beneath the edge of the taped down paper. "And you're sure you don't want me to pick one of the smaller things I got you, so you can unwrap one, too?"

"Positive," he says easily as a chuckle rises into his voice. "Besides, I'll have something to… unwrap soon enough."

Her brow arches and she tears off the paper, and he holds his breath as he watches her lift the lid from the box and push away the tissue paper–and he hopes that she'll like it.

"Lingerie," she murmurs, looking up at him and shrugging her brows. "How shocking after that _unwrapping_ comment." He rolls his eyes as she lifts the green lacy bra from the box and her fingers hook under around the thin green satin straps. "It's pretty."

"You think so?"

"I do," she nods, biting down on her lip as she moves her hand into one of the cups of the bra. "It's… very sheer."

"I know," he grins. "And when I saw it on the mannequin, I couldn't stop thinking of you in it and–"

"Ah, so that's where you disappeared to," she says as a smile stretches across her lips and she picks up the matching green lace panties. "They're soft." He nods, watching as her fingers rub against the fabric. "Usually, you're not really… interested in lingerie." She laughs gently as she lets her hand slip into the backside of the panties, and again, there seems to be more skin showing than lace. "Something about not understanding the point, if it was only going to end up on the floor."

"I know," he murmurs. "And I don't know what it was about that particular set but–"

She smiles. "Do you want to… see me in it? See if I live up to the fantasy?"

He feels his cheeks warm a bit and he nods. "I am _sure_ it will."

"You're… not too tired?"

"No," he's quick to say. "And, you know… for the sake of tradition…"

She laughs out. "So, it's our Christmas Eve tradition to have sex."

"I mean, it _could_ be…"

His heart flutters as she holds up the bra once more and again, she shrugs her eyebrows at him. "Well, then, I'll be back in a few minutes, so you can… unwrap me."

She disappears into the bathroom–and he can't help but think of how unromantic his request was. But then, their first time hadn't begun all that romantically either. There simply hadn't been much else to do. He leans back against the pillows and smiles, remembering that night a year before–remembering how nervous he was and how reassuring she was. He'd been so worried about not pleasing her–worried that she'd be disappointed and there would be no going back.

And though they'd been together countless times since then, he still found himself thinking about that first night, and how perfect it was.

He swallows hard as the bathroom door opens–and his eyes linger up her, taking in the lacy lingerie that leaves very little to the imagination, and exceeds every expectation that he had, and then as his eyes trail up, he finds himself pressing his lips together and stifling the urge to laugh.

"What? The antlers?" She asks, pointing up to her head. "You weren't expecting the antlers?"

"No," he laughs. "But I have to say… I like them."

"I figured with that wrapping paper…" She reaches up and bats her hand against one of the antlers and the little bells on it jingle–and again, he can't help but laugh. "And they were just in the bathroom, so I thought they might be a part of the… get-up."

"No," he murmurs as he swallows another laugh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you certainly are a sexy little reindeer." Her eyes close and her face scrunches her nose–and then, when her eyes open, he holds out a hand to her.

He sits up, but she pushes him back–pressing her palms against his chest as she climbs on top of him, straddling his lap. He swallows hard as her fingers press against the fabric, rubbing back and forth as her eyes meet his–and then, she leans in, cupping his face in her hands as she kisses him softly.

His hands fold around her, rubbing over the thing layer of lace covering her ass–and he sucks in a breath as her hands fall away from his face and slowly begin twisting around the buttons on the front of his shirt.

He swallows as she tugs the shirt from his pants and she pulls away as she opens the shirt, pressing her palms to his bare chest and smiling suggestively. He continues rubbing his hands over her ass, kneading gently at the soft lacy fabric that covers her–and he lets out a shallow breath when she leans in and presses her lips to his chest, suck hard at his skin.

Her lips slide lower and lower and her fingers fumble with his belt–and she grins up at him coyly as she slowly pulls down the zipper of his pants, and readjusts herself between his legs.

He lifts his hips and she tugs his pants down over his hips–and she lowers her head to kiss the skin just above the elastic band of his boxer-briefs, the bells on her antlers jingle and they both laugh out.

"They're kind of a mood-killer, aren't they," she murmurs, pulling away from him and sitting back on her legs folded beneath her. "They keep…ringing at inopportune times."

"I don't know," he murmurs as he swallows his laugh. "They're kind of fun."

Her brow arches. "Oh… I didn't know you were… into that."

Robin's eyes roll and he shakes his head. "I'm into you, silly antlers or not."

She laughs and bites down on her bottom lip as she reaches out, cupping his cock through his underwear–and he sucks in a breath at that first contact. She squeezes gently as she presses her palm to him and then, she leans forward and again, places a kiss just about the waistband.

Her fingers slip into the underwear and close around the band, slowly tugging them down. She grins up at him as his cock springs forward, already hardening with anticipation–and she lets out a little giggle as the bells again jingle as she drags her tongue up the length of his shaft.

Her fingers fold around him as she kisses the tip–and again, the bells jingle, but somehow the sound is much more faint. He lets out a low moan and sucks in a breath as her lips slide down and her fingers twist and slide–and as the bells jingle, he feels a puff of air and light vibrations from her throat as she giggles softly, and he nearly comes right then.

She continues sucking and licking–and oh, god giggling–and he feels his breath growing increasingly ragged. His eyes open and she's looking up at him as she her fingers knead at his balls and her tongue swirls just beneath the head of his cock–and then, she pulls away.

He swallows hard as as she sits up, straddling his legs. She pushes her shoulders back and grins, then gives her head a little shake, making the antlers jingle as she rubs her hands over his hips.

"This is fun."

"It is," he agrees in a husky voice as his eyes linger up her body, letting them linger longer than necessary over the thin gauzy lace covering her breasts. "A lot of fun."

His hands slide up over her ass and her kneads gently at her skin, grinning when her back arches–and then, she falls forward, capturing his lips in hers. The kiss is wet and sloppy–and he can't help but laugh as the antlers jingle.

"Should I take them off?"

"No," he murmurs. "I kind of like them."

She pulls back and arches a brow. "So, you _are_ into that?"

"Like I said," he says as a sly little grin edges onto his lips as he grabs harder at her ass. "I'm into you… no matter what you're wearing."

"Yeah?"

"You could be Mrs. Claus–white wig and all–and you'd still be irresistible to me."

"Ooh," she growls playfully. "All that red satin from head to toe, maybe… a broach at my throat."

"I think I'm partial to green lace… and jingle bell antlers," he murmurs as he pushes his hand up her stomach, smiling at her as his fingers slip against the lace bra. "But yeah, red satin might be fun."

"Next year," she says, laughing out as he pushes her back onto the bed. "We need to be quiet…"

"You're the one making all the noise." She takes a breath and he grins as she licks her lips. "That said, I'm fairly certain that–for tonight, at least–we could drive a train through the house and no one would wake up."

She grins. "Suggesting the boys have a slumber party in Roland's room was a great idea."

He grins back and winks as his fingers slip between her legs and curl around the little stip of lace covering her–and she laughs out when he gives it a little tug and the bells on the antlers jingle. "I might have had an ulterior motive."

"Hm, I hadn't noticed."

His eyes roll and his flingers slip between her lips. "You're so wet."

She looks up at him and bites harder at her lip. "I know," she murmurs. "It's… all that talk of Mrs. Claus."

"Ah, so _you_ have a thing for Mrs. Claus."

"Well, you have a thing for reindeer."

At that, he laughs–and one of his fingers dips inside of her, slowly curling and uncurling as his eyes stay fixed on hers. "No, just… one very specific reindeer."

"Mmm, that feels nice," she murmurs–gasping when he slips in another finger, letting it slide and curl, just like the first. "Faster," she says, her voice not much more than a muffled whimper. "Please…"

Happily he obliges and his fingers pump faster as his thumb presses down on her clit, circling around it. A grin pulls onto his lips–he enjoys making her squirm like this, and he enjoys the contrast of the warmth inside of her with the coolness of the air when he pulls his fingers away. He likes the way the lace gently scratches his hand as his slides over her smooth skin–and he loves the way she whimpers and writhes.

She presses back her head and arches her back, and he knows that's she's close–so, he teases her a bit, and pulls away his hand. Her eyes open and she pouts, and when she lifts her head those damn antlers jingle–and he can't help but laugh. She's adorable.

"You're not done," she tells him.

"No," he agrees, tugging off the lace panties and casting them aside, "Not even close."

His cock is throbbing and begging for attention as he leans in and sucks gently at her clit–and when her back arches his hand slips under her, slowly lifting her and forcing his lips up to her stomach.

He looks at her as she settles herself, comfortably and to his dismay with his cock between them. She pulls herself up and down, slowly as she kisses him, rubbing her body against his cock–and every now and then, he's aware of those jingling antlers, and he every time, he finds himself chuckling softly against her mouth.

Regina's arms link around his neck and she presses herself closer and kisses him harder–and he shudders a bit as his cock bumps up against her clit and she moans into his mouth. Again, she pushes herself closer, this time pulling herself up onto her knees. He sigh contently as the tip of his cock slips easily into her, and the lace of her bra and the firmness of her nippes rub against his chest, and again–god help him–the antlers jingle.

He holds her hips as she starts to ride him, slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace–and when she breaks the kiss, she looks at him and lets out a shaky breath, before a coy little grin edges onto her lips. She feels so damn good–and it's not long before her movements become a bit more hurried. His balls tighten and his cock twitches–and she moans as her head falls forward, her forehead resting against his as he comes.

Pushing her back against the pillows, he thrusts slowly, riding out the orgasm–and then, when he's finished, he slips out of her and quickly trails kisses down her throat and stomach, until his tongue is sliding between her legs, licking and sucking until she's coming.

Swallowing hard, he pulls back and lays down beside her–and a silly little grin edges onto her lips. "That was fun."

"It was," he agrees.

"I'm… sticky."

He laughs, reaching out and pushing his hand up over the lacy bra, cupping her breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers and the lace. "We could… fix that quite easily."

"In a few minutes," she breathes out, swallowing hard. "I need to… catch my breath."

"Mm, okay," he murmurs, rolling onto his side as his lips find her neck and his fingers continue to roll her nipples. "We have all night."

"Tomorrow morning is going to come _very_ quickly."

"That's nothing a strong pot of coffee can't fix."

She laughs just before reaching out and tilting his chin up–and as their eyes meet, she rolls closer and catches his lips between hers.

They lay like that for awhile–kissing and tangled in each others arms, and he can't help but think how different this is than the previous year. They were so much more comfortable and at ease, and though at the time it'd been hard to think that he could love her any more than he did then, he was so much more in love with her now.

Regina pulls back and shakes her head as she sits up. "Unfortunately," she murmurs as she reaches up to the antlers atop her head. "I don't think these would fare well in the shower."

"Probably not," he says, taking them from her and tossing them aside–and they both laugh as the bells on the antlers jingle one last time.

She pulls him up of the bed and reaches behind herself, unclasping the bra and letting it fall to the floor. He stares at her for a moment, taking her in–and he can't help but think as beautiful as she looked in that green lacy lingerie, he very much preferred her without it.

Regina gives his hand a little tug and grins coyly as she leads him to the bathroom–and as she reaches behind herself to turn on the shower, her hand forms around his cock, getting him ready for round two.

As expected, the boys wake up early–and even though Henry no longer believes in Santa Claus, it doesn't seem to make Christmas any less magical for him. Every time he opens a present, he looks to Robin and Regina–looking to his parents–and he grins brightly, offering them a silent _thank you_ as Roland gushes about how good Santa was to them that Christmas.

By seven in the morning, the presents are almost entirely opened–and the boys are thumbing through a book of Sunday Morning Comics. Regina's cuddled up in Robin's lap on the armchair, and a fire is burning at the hearth. His hand rubs absently over her back as they watch the boys opening their presents–and she's not sure she's ever felt so content and at ease.

Her heart warms as Henry points to a word and Roland's brow creases, and gently, Henry helps him sound it out. For the past year and a half she's been so focused on giving Henry the family he always wanted and deserved–and somehow, it managed to escape her that she was also doing the same for herself.

And it'd also escaped her–somehow, and almost unbelievably–that she'd achieved it.

Since the curse broke she was so focused on the town–focused on everyone else's wants and needs, trying to make up for the nearly thirty years they'd lost–that she hadn't much focused on the beautiful thing happening right in front of her.

Robin presses a kiss to her hair and she sips her coffee, and it occurs to her that there's nothing she can do about the past, that only the future mattered. It's something Robin had told her time and time again, and while she'd nodded and said she understood, she hadn't quite internalized it. She'd been too focused on everything she'd done wrong, all the terrible things she couldn't change–but now, for some reason as she watched Henry and Roland reading together–it seemed so obvious.

They'd all come so far.

And maybe, it really had all been worth it.

"Hey," Robin's voice calls softly, bringing her back into the moment. "You two do know there are still a few gifts over there, tucked behind the tree."

Both boys' eyes widen. "Santa was _so nice_ this year," Roland says as he crawls toward the pile of gifts and looks to Henry. "It's Harry Potter paper!"

"Cool!" Henry exclaims as he folds the comic book shut. "You can open the first one."

Roland grins, and slowly tucks his finger underneath the wrapping as he looks around the room, brimming with excitement–and then his brow furrows. "It's… an apron."

"It's a _Hufflepuff_ apron," Henry tells him as he rips into his own present. "And mine's a Gryffindor one!" Henry looks up, his eyes widening as he looks to Robin and Regina. "They match the ones you guys got!"

"They do…"

"And I'm willing to bet they go with the rest of that stuff."

"Santa's really thoughtful," Roland says seriously, looking between them all. "He wrapped all the presents that go together in the same paper so we know what to open with what."

Robin laughs. "I… think _Mrs. Claus_ might have had something to do with that, actually." Regina grins and tips her head back to look at him, and he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. "I think you guys should open up the big one next."

Henry and Roland both nod, and together, they pull the paper off the Hagrid's Hut Gingerbread House.

"Can we make this today?" Henry asks, his eyes widening expectantly.

"Yeah! Can we have gingerbread for breakfast?"

Regina laughs. "We can make it, but you two are eating a _real_ breakfast first."

"Can our real breakfast be gingerbread?" Roland asks, pressing his hands together. "Please?"

"How about some scrambled eggs and toast."

Roland considers for a moment and then nods. "Can we have bacon, too?"

Regina laughs and nods–and the boys open the last few presents, and Robin's quick to remind them that the candy is meant to go on the gingerbread house.

After everything's opened, Robin takes the boys into the kitchen–and they sword fight with their Harry Potter spatulas as they go, earning a long sigh from Robin as he shakes his head. She waits until they're out of the room and takes a breath, and then, waving her hand she cheats and uses magic to clean up the mess of wrapping paper, ribbons and torn apart packaging.

She joins them in the kitchen, standing there for a moment and watching as Henry start to make the gingerbread dough while Robin stands at the stove monitoring as Roland scrambles the eggs–and her breath catches.

"Are you okay?" Robin asks, turning toward her as her eyes fill with tears and suddenly, she feels a surge of emotion. "You look–"

"I'm fine," she insists. "I just… I just love that we have this."

"Me too," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to her cheek. "I love _this_ , too."

"I… I don't want to think about what I'd be like without you… well… you and the boys," she says, swallowing hard as she blinks away her tears. "You guys are the best part of me."

"Well," he murmurs softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek as Henry looks up from the counter and grins a bit awkwardly. 'You'll never have to find out."

He offers her a wink and she joins Henry, draping her arm around his shoulders and dropping a kiss to his hair as Robin rejoins Roland at the stove.

It's not long before breakfast is done and the boys are carefully using the cookie cutters to make the walls to Hagrid's Hut–and Robin is stealing the occasional gum drop and peppermint.

Finally, it's time to put the gingerbread into the oven and Henry does so carefully with Roland watching–and Regina turns to start mixing the icing that will eventually hold together the walls of Hagrid's Hut, she bursts out laughing when she finds Robin perched on a stool wearing another pair of antlers and a spot of the red frosting on his nose.

The boys both turn to look at them, rolling their eyes as Robin pulls Regina to him, kissing her as the boys roll their eyes and turn back to the oven, watching impatiently as the gingerbread bakes.


End file.
